


And He Said Help Me Kill the President

by aaronnn



Category: South Park
Genre: Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Bonding, Crime, Death, Drama, Drugs, Friendship, Gang, M/M, Other, Out of Character, Songfic, Thriller, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronnn/pseuds/aaronnn
Summary: He has always enjoyed his job. It was clean, it was safe and it paid well. Though the drill was always the same, get a little note with a name and sometimes a photo, find out everything you can about them, get to know them and then, after hours lost in perfecting a plan, hit your target. Sometimes spice it up a little bit, go to the scene close up and do the dirty job, take care of a politician, make sure a drug supply goes well. Whatever paid at that moment.At times it got the best of him. Get to know our target, but don't start to emphasize with them. Not necessarily agreeing with your orders. Trying to mix a little bit of normal life into the huge mess that your work is. It gets hard. Just do your job, well and clean, leave no traces behind. Do what you're told.He tried to never make mistakes, perfecting every plan and every kill, but that simply isn't possible. And so he passed his curse onto another person, pulling him into this mess that he created.Will he get out of everything as smoothly as possible?Is he capable of fixing his own mistakes?Will he reach the throne?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains violence, substance abuse, some sexual themes.  
> Loosely based on ‘Wires’ and 'Sadderdaze' by The Neighbourhood

It was the sound of rocks hitting the windshield that woke him up. He felt like hell, barely opening his eyes. Everything he was seeing was blurred and it didn't help the pounding headache that was creeping up on him. Everything in his head started to throb, he could see black smudges in front of him with every beat his heart took. Still, he was too disoriented and weak to care about why he was sitting in an unknown car, driving God knows where.

The headache didn't stop after a while but he was seeing better now. Looking around, he studied the car as much as he could, his neck was stiff and it hurt to move. He couldn't turn around enough to see the driver, his mind still too clouded to care. His head rolled from side to side, hanging low. But the world was becoming a little more clear. 

He gathered the last bits of strength he found, turning his head to a side and seeing tall ginger driving the car, not caring to give him a look, check if he's okay. Suddenly, all the clouds from his mind were lifted, they were now replaced with pure panic. ‘Who the fuck is this man?’ he thought, squirming in his seat but his body would only move so much. Just then he noticed his hands were up, tied up together with the inner door handle. As much as he tried, pulling and jerking them away from the handle, there wasn't much he could do. The only result was the skin of his wrists chafing, this injury only adding to his headache and how stiff he felt. It took him too long to understand there was no use in trying to rip the whole handle out, it won't budge. With every tug that did nothing, his heart went a little faster. Where is he even going? He's tied to a fucking car door with no way out, panic started to rise and boil up inside him.

He felt sweat on his forehead, his eyes quickly running around in the horror he was living through at that moment. He was ready to scream, yell, hoping that maybe someone would hear, save him. The moment he tried to open his mouth, he realized he couldn't. What's going on? He tried one more time, failing again. From what he could tell, there was a piece of duct tape stuck over them. Adrenaline was spilling over his body, he felt the rush of energy but had nothing to do with it. It was getting harder to breathe as if someone was choking him. He needed to get out. 

A choked up cry left his throat, his eyes getting a little watery. With the last bits of the belief that he'd get out of here, he tried to get his hands out of the knot, twisting and turning in his seat. The man surely noticed that he was awake by now. Was he unconscious? Why was he unconscious?

Another scream fought its way out, this time he noticed the man gave him a little side look. He turned to the side, looking at the man behind the wheel. There was no time before to get a good look at him. Tall and fair skin and red hair and all that but all in all, he thought he could maybe fight or even outrun him. He was in good shape after all.

The man turned at him, giving him an amused look, watching him wake up and slowly realize the situation he was in. “Wondering how you got here, aren't you, pumpkin?’”

Stan was about to answer but was soon reminded that his mouth was sealed shut by the duct tape. Oh great, he thought and in a desperate moment just rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking away. The road was passing by fast, yet there were no other cars around. They were literally in the middle of nowhere, he realized and the last bits of hope in him died bit by bit, as his eyes traveled from one small green hill to another as they passed by. They were the only things moving around, he saw no animals, no people, no houses, no road signs, no nothing. 

“Judging from your look, you have no idea how you got here,” the man beside him laughed, his eyes never leaving the road. Oh, I'm not even worth a look? Stan thought, humming an arrogant and sarcastic 'mhm', just to give some kind of an answer. His heart calmed down, despite him not knowing what the hell was going to happen to him. Taking the duct tape and ropes into consideration, nothing good. 

Truly, what was the reason for him sitting here? His mind anxiously went over every even from the past two weeks that he could remember. Did he do anything that might have gotten him into a situation like this? Could it be because he broke up with that chick or he got some guy too jealous? He couldn't think of anything that serious that he did. That made him panic even more. Was he just a random victim from the street, is he going to get sold on the black market? Christ, are they going to harvest his organs or something? He couldn't think of anything less terrifying. 

The man glanced at him again, taking a better look at his face. He could feel it. “You look pale, you know?” Yeah, no shit, Stan thought but still had no way of answering. The car suddenly went off the road, stopping abruptly on the grass nearby. Stan was so confused, he had no idea what was going on. Oh, Christ, this is the end, why else would we be stopping in the middle of the road. His thoughts were racing more than before. “I guess you should drink something. They wouldn't want you to be half-dead when we get there,” the man beside him mumbled to himself, stepping out of the car. Stan completely ignored the first part, rather focusing on the second one. Who wanted him alive? What the fuck was going on? His heartbeat went through the roof again, at this point he wasn't even capable of producing a competent though, he was so terrified. 

The door he was tied to swayed open, jerking him forward too. The man probably didn't realize that he was still tied up. Hardly catching himself mid-fall, he managed to sit up straight once again. Not even a smile appeared on the man's face, he just reached over and pulled off the duct tape in one swift motion. Stan didn't expect this to happen, the sudden stinging pain forcing a yell out of his throat. He felt his eyes water a little bit, the pain didn't seem to go away anytime soon. In a moment of immense pain and fear, he bent down, laying his head on his thighs. “What the fuck?” he yelled into his jeans, not even bothering to sit up properly. 

“Get up,” he heard a strict voice in front of him, a light kick on his shin to wake him up. It was clear to him that he's going to end up in a grave sooner or later but he was still so horrified. Hearing that voice, he felt his lips tremble as he looked up, seeing the man that drove the car. Hovering over him, he looked even more intimidating than before. From the scars, he saw to the look that was staring down on him. He couldn't move, he almost forgot how to breathe. “Drink,” he ordered him and handed him a water bottle. He reached it right into Stan's hand but it was still tied to the handle, now with the door wide open even stretched out in front of him. “I-I can't-” he couldn't finish his sentence, words getting lost in his throat. Just now he noticed how dry his throat and mouth was, no wonder words couldn't come out. He heard the man mutter something, rolling his eyes and grabbing the bottle back. He brought it up to Stan's lips this time. “Drink,” he ordered, looking away. 

“This is fucking embarrassing,” Stan heard the man say when he tilted the bottle back, pulling on a cap tightly. He threw it at the backseat and grabbed a cigarette pack from his coat, pulling out one and promptly lighting it. He really needed it, he thought. It has been a long day on the road and now that this one was awake, it was bound to be even worse. He wasn't in this for the bother of taking care of another person.

He was about halfway done with the cigarette when he noticed the boy looking up at him with big eyes, trembling and barely blinking. Dealing with a nervous mess was not something he was up for. With a sigh, he asked him if he wanted one too. He nodded, the man grabbing another one from his jacket and putting it between the boy's lips.

‘I have to get out,’ Stan thought, his mind going through every escape route he could think of. There wasn't much he could think of, his mind still clouded with fear and dread. When he saw the man's hand near him, he tried to bite it. He didn't know why it was just an instinct of sort. Maybe it'd hurt him, get him some time to undo the knot and run away. It seemed like a good idea until the man quickly pulled his hand away and gave him a disappointed frown. “Oh so baby wanna bite?” he asked him and reached out behind his jacket.

Next thing Stan knew, he had a gun lightly touching his chest, the coldness of the metal getting past his shirt onto his skin. The man's expression turned from utter annoyance to irritation and impatience in a matter of seconds. He was staring him right into eyes, slightly bent down to look him right into his face. The look he gave him was so empty yet had so much to say. Stan's words got lost once again, he was sure this was the moment when a bullet is going to fly right through him.  He saw it in his face. “I could have you dead on this seat in this very moment,” the man whispered, bumping the end of the gun's barrel against his chest with every word. “Only reason you're alive is that I'm getting more cash if I bring you in still breathing.”

That was complete and utter bullshit and the man knew it. He couldn't kill him, he couldn't seriously hurt him though that's what he did the best. He was a hitman, not some kind of taxi service. But his orders were clear, bring Stan Marsh and bring him alive. It didn't leave his mind, he had to look into it and search a little bit more about this situation. If he was going to kidnap and drive away this kid, he wanted to know why. Why they needed him so suddenly, why him. 

The only thing there was left to do is seriously frighten this kid into believing that he could put a bullet through his brain at any given moment, even though he couldn't. Judging from his look, it was working well so far. He slammed the passenger's door shut and made his way to his own seat. It was already getting dark and he didn't have much time left to deliver this kid to the people who were paying for him. But he guessed he still had enough time. 

The ride was quiet, even though he pulled the duct tape off of Stan's mouth. With a gun against his chest, Stan had no idea what to do. He was scared stiff, had no guts to make even one tiny move. And he firmly believed that this guy will pull the gun out again if needed. Slowly but surely, he thought, he was making peace with the fact that these were his last moments. Locked up in a car with a guy who's bringing him to his own personal guillotine or whatever. He wished that the man next to him won't see the little tears that were trying to escape his eyes. They never did, always wiped away by the fabric of his hoodie. As much as he tried, he couldn't make peace with the fact he was going to die, most probably.

The only thing that brought him out of this deep existential dread was a few bright colorful lights flashing into his face. He looked up, they were driving into a city now. He couldn't figure out why or how they got here, where they even were but a little flame of hope was sparked up in his heart. “Shit, we're low on gas,” the man beside him said to himself, looking around for the nearest gas station. 

It took him a while before he found one, not too far away. He pulled over there, stopping beside a fuel dispenser. The car stopped and the man was about to step out when Stan cleared his throat. “I-I need to like... go,” he whispered, awaiting an answer. He was still too anxious to speak around him, his voice trembling. With a deep sigh and a clearly annoyed look, he got out of the car and a little while later, Stan's car door opened too. With a few swift movements, he was untied. The first thing he did was pull his wrists closer and rub the injured skin, looking closely at the damage that has been done. A few bruises, redness, burns. He got out of the car and wondered whether he had a chance to run away and escape. The chances were great, he thought. How will he be able to find him? While looking for some courage, he felt the same cold metal gun barrel pressed against his back. He completely froze still, his thoughts stopping immediately. “I found you once, I'll find you again,” the man quietly said, slowly and making sure Stan understood every word he said. It was a clear warning, telling him to not even think about escaping. It took a lot of strength and courage to take the first step towards the gas station. He tried so hard to hide the fact he was quivering, yet his pale face and dark bags gave away the look that something wasn't right.

He convinced himself to return to the car. It'd do him no justice to run away, even though that's what a sane person would've done. Getting lost in a strange city with no belongings whatsoever, no way to reach someone you know, completely alone. It sounded terrible. It would only cause more problems, he thought. And with slow steps and his head hung low, he made his way back into the car. 

All spirit has left him, fright and despair, everything. He was sitting in his seat, dully staring out of the window as they took a few sharp turns. Probably to shake off whoever might be following them. The car was making its way out of the city into what looked like the suburbs and then the most run-down parts. Normally, it'd scare him. Now he kind of just accepted what was happening. The man beside him seemed to like it more this way too. They passed a few burnt-down buildings before stopping on a huge empty parking lot, standing next to an old, disintegrating warehouse. The moment he stepped out of the car, all feelings were back in their places.

“Okay, we're gonna have to do a few things,” the man stopped him in his steps by grabbing him by the arm. He stumbled back but still turned around to face the man. He was holding the piece of rope again, this time tying his arms behind his back. It hurt more than before but he didn't fight it. Before he knew it, the man pulled a blindfold over his eyes. If his heart wasn't ready to burst out of his chest, it sure was now. He felt his hands getting cold, sweat creeping up on his forehead. He was firmly grabbed by his arm, the man's fingers digging into his flesh. It hurt.

He could smell the old, dusty air and mold as they stepped in, cold wet air hitting his cheeks. He was harshly stopped by the man grabbing his arm tighter, not letting him wander on his own. He was completely helpless at that point. Stan felt a forceful push on his back, losing balance and falling onto his knees. He felt them scraping, hardly managing to sit up straight. He heard a few men talking but didn't understand a word they said, their voices were muffled and distant. The ground he was kneeling on was cold, very cold. There was a moment of silence and it was ripping him apart, he wanted this to be over already.

“Here's what you ordered.”


	2. Chapter 2

The only thing he heard was a few zinging gunshots. He counted them, one, two, there were three in total. After each one, he wished it'd end, always expecting to feel the sharp pain of a bullet hitting him or just straight up dropping dead. His heart clenched tighter with every bullet that didn't hit him.

After that, he heard a few loud bangs. Something heavy hitting the ground with a dull thud. Stan slowly realized that the shots were coming from beside him, not from the people in front of him. None of them were apparently aimed at him. Everything started to make less and less sense. Up until the first shot was fired, he thought that this is his end, he's going to die in the hands of some merciless tyrant but now, he was just kneeling on the ground in a moldy old warehouse. The air smelled acrid and sour, it was probably the gunpowder. It made his stomach turn and twist, he thought he'd throw up right there.

His hair was sticking to his forehead. He forgot how shallowly he was breathing. Something sharp hit his wrist, he heard a tearing noise and the rope from around his wrists fell down. He froze in shock but the sound of footsteps turning around and going away woke him up quickly. He pulled down the blindfold as fast as he could, catching a look at his kidnaper and savior in one. He was walking away but wasn't too far. “Hey... hey, what the hell was this about?” he yelled after him, the man's silhouette fading away in the dark. He didn't even budge and completely ignored the question.

Just now did Stan notice the three lifeless bodies in front of him. The pool of blood that was surrounding their heads almost reached him. He almost couldn't believe it, he started at the three dead bodies in such shock, his eyes carefully examining the bullet holes in each of their heads. His mind could not comprehend what was happening. Sure, he saw things like this in movies and such but actually having three stiff bodies in front of you was a different story. As much as he thought he couldn't, he tore his eyes away from them and yelled after the man one more time. Nothing. He tried to pick up his pace but his legs felt incredibly heavy, he could barely walk. It was surreal.

“What happened?” he asked the man, not even expecting an answer this time. This man was threatening him the whole ride, literally kidnaped him just to push him on his knees and kill three guys? Is he going to be waking up in more strange cars anytime soon? For Christ's sake, the man couldn't leave him just like this. “You're in deep shit now, you know?” the man mumbled, Stan barely hearing him. Nothing he didn't already know, Stan thought, still trying to catch up with the guy.

“You can't leave me here like this. At least give me a ride back. Come on, I helped you kill three guys,” he stated, grabbing the man by his shoulder. The moment he did it, he realized that it was a bad idea. He did just kill a few people right there. His hand quickly retreated and he cursed the second he put it up there. “The men would've been dead anyway. You're just an easy lure,” the man glared at him, pulling out another cigarette. Stan could almost feel the coldness emitting from him. He stepped back, the man's presence scaring him still. “At least give me a ride back,” he pleaded with worried eyes, the man clearly saw that. “God knows who else might kidnap me in this shithole.” He couldn't quite believe he was asking the guy who kidnaped him and almost sold him to a few criminals for help but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Something sparked up in the man. No, not worry or compassion or guilt. He learned how to bury those feeling a long time ago. He learned how to bury them all and never dig them back up, knowing they'd cause trouble. He was taught how to do that and now, he just took it as a part of his life. He locked them all0 away in a tiny box and burned it down. What he saw was possible salvation from the shitshow that was happening right now. Maybe it'd work, maybe it'd make his current situation even worse. He may never know until he tries. He said nothing, instead swung open the front door of his car, stepping in. He wondered whether the kid would get the memo and step in too. It took him a while, but the trembling kid got there.

They sat in the car in silence for a while. The man wondered whether Stan will go straight to the police. He couldn't really tell but he guessed he was smarter than that. He found him once, he'll do it again if needed. What played into his advantage was that fact that the police had no idea who he was. Stan had no evidence to prove it was him who shot those men. Stan didn't know who he was. Stan had nothing on him.

The ride was awfully quiet. He could sense how afraid Stan was at that moment, sitting in the car again, especially after what had happened. The man couldn't have guessed how Stan will take the sight of those bodies and well, actually, the whole situation. He just wished they were in the city already.

Stan tried to pry some information from the man but didn't even get an answer. Not one. He asked him what his name was, what had just happened, what was that all about, who were those men, why did they want him. He asked him what he could, hoping for at least one answer so he'd know where to start searching. One little clue, but all he had received was absolute silence.

“Get out,” the man commanded as soon as they entered the city. It was almost early morning and the streets were empty. He stopped the car by a sidewalk in a remotely safe area, waiting for Stan to step out. It took incredibly lot of convincing himself, to step out of the car into the silent night. He was so scared of what might happen on his way home, even though he didn't live far. Hell, he didn't even have his keys with him. “Keep your mouth shut,” the man harshly said as soon as Stan opened the door, looking for last bits of courage to step out. He didn't want to piss him off even more but he hardly opened the door with his trembling hand, it took a lot to step out into the night, alone and terrified. As soon as he did, the driver sped off, as fast as he could and Stan was left alone on the street, on his own to find his way home.

 

If he didn't research him a little more, finding out why they wanted him so badly, he probably wouldn't have saved him. Or, the boy would be dead by now too. However, he couldn't find anything significant about him. Nothing. No relatives, activities, nothing. In no context should this boy be interesting for the mafia that he was dealing with? It was a mystery yet to be solved. He didn't want to but as it seemed, he needed to keep a close eye on him.

From what he could figure out, he was about halfway home from the place where he dropped Stan off, he pulled this boy into some even deeper shit. Death of those guys won't be investigated by the police, that was for sure. Why would the police investigate the death of three mafia men? But the head of that whole team will surely want to know who killed them and where the boy is now. He was thinking too much, he thought but couldn't get the thoughts out of his head. He was getting worried. Was letting the kid be taken really the better choice? He had to admit to himself, saving him and taking out those guys was a sudden decision. The thought first crossed his mind when he saw them standing there, seeing which they belonged to. That's when he first thought about saving the kid. After all, there are some rules you don't break, no matter what family or gang you belong into.

No kids and no women.

He guessed the boy could be around 20, still fairly young. While not a kid, he still had his life in front of him and since he didn't find any suspicious connections linking him to anyone, he did it. He had to admit, it was a mistake. He could use him to figure his own situation out but he could do that without him too. His situation would've probably been better by now if he hadn't just killed three members of the family that wanted his head. Now they'll want to get the kid too, even more than before, he might say. He pulled Stan into this shit and something in the back of his mind told him it's his duty to keep an eye on him. He didn't want to but despite what he was doing for a living, he had strong principles that he lived and worked by. He probably wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to this kid just because of his compulsive decision to fuck everything up.

He couldn't help it, he drove around the empty city some more. Partly because he needed some time to think and partly in case someone was onto him. It was a ritual he did after appointments, you could say. A cleanse.

He suddenly remembered he didn't throw the gun away at the scene. Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit. How could he forget? He was in such stress and hurry to get away from them and from the boy that he absolutely forgot to throw the gun away there. There would be no link from the gun to him since all of them were from the black market, no sane hitman would use a registered weapon. But leaving it there would make it almost impossible to convince him of the crime. It was too late now, he thought but out of the sheer principle, he stopped at the side of the road on the bridge he was crossing. He didn't even take his gloves off, his mind was in such chaos. He stepped out of the car, coming closer to the edge, looking down into the water running below him. He liked the sight, with the city lights reflecting back up. He pulled that damned gun out, reaching back and throwing it as far into the water as he could. It landed with a soft plop, sinking down. He had so much anger inside him, he was so bitter because of what he had done. It wasn't right. He liked the leather gloves he was wearing but out resentfulness, he took them off and threw them into water too. He'd get new ones, he didn't want these to remind him of this failed job. It'll take him some time to get out of it. After cursing the whole world for a while, he stepped into the car and drove straight home, not thinking about whether someone was following him or not. If needed, he'd defend himself. Probably.

It was a sleepless night for Kyle. His appetite was lost completely and he didn't feel like doing anything else either. There was a pile of offers and jobs he could look through, there were plans he could make. There were operations that needed to be thought through but he was in such a bad place, he couldn't concentrate. He needed to get some good sleep, at least once.

He couldn't take his mind off the kid that could be in trouble because of him at this very moment. He kept tossing and turning, eventually, he had to turn the lights on and have a smoke. Maybe it'd calm him down, maybe not. Eventually, he sat on the bed and then laid down, his own thought worrying and tiring him so much he fell asleep when the sun was rising already.

The morning came sooner than he would've hoped. It wasn't the sun or the alarm that woke him up. It was the shuffling sound outside his door that did. He cursed the light sleep that kept him on his feet all the time, he didn't remember the last time he slept well without waking up when he heard the slightest sound. But he knew once the sun was up and his eyes were open, there was no going back.

Black coffee, a morning cigarette and a few pages of the trashy book that was lying on his table. It was his guilty pleasure but it was something to take the edge off, not think about his job for a while. It was a nice way to start the morning. He felt like an ordinary person, the worries of his daily life thrown out of the window. At least for a while.

Despite all that, he liked his job. It's what he is trained to do, it's what he's good at. Every one of his clients knows he does it well, he does it clean. He'd be what the police consider a ghost. They never find enough clues after the crime is committed, they always fail to find a pattern. He and other professionals always find their way out, their hits are always perfectly planned. Since it's so hard to go after one, the investigators have trouble writing a profile of these vanishing assassins. It's a part of the thrill, Kyle thought. Always vanishing without a clue, leaving behind only a fired bullet and a body.

The day seemed to go slow, the sun was down very quickly today. He was on his toes though, incident from yesterday causing him to overthink and become a little paranoid. However, it was evening already and nothing had yet happened, it was giving him a bit of hope he did the right thing. His day was well wasted, getting the deserved rest he needed. Isolating himself and enjoying the way the time dragging itself when he didn't have adrenaline running through him. He learned how to enjoy these slow days.

When his phone beeped, he didn't think much of it. Not until he read the message from one of his associates, reading he should keep an eye on his boy. This wasn't an ordinary message, the contact read K and that was the person getting newest info about the family that was after Kyle. There is the thrill again. Without much hesitation and thinking, he didn't have time for that, he grabbed his jacket and gun and hurried out of the door.

 

For Stan, it's been a terrible day. It was a terrible night too, the dread of someone coming after him never leaving. He battled whether he should report it or not but his rational side convinced him that ratting out someone who had just saved his ass wasn't the brightest idea. It was an awful idea, in fact.

He didn't sleep the whole night either, he felt worse than after any horror movie he had watched. He didn't close an eye the whole time, trying to process the events that took place that very night. He hardly realized how lucky he was, not getting his brain splattered on the pavement. He could see himself not taking this well. It was harder than he thought. But the next day, he had responsibilities to attend to. He couldn't cancel them, he couldn't tell anyone what had happened. It took so much courage to get out of his bed and go out, jumping at every little sound and shadow he saw. He went through school but his mind was lost, somewhere far away and then hung out with some friends. That helped take the edge off of the stress and panic he felt but in the end, he didn't manage his time well. And so, here he is, walking home alone past midnight. He cursed every decision he had made up until that point, quickly trying to make his way home. He gripped his keys in one hand and felt a wave of relief when he saw his gate. Just a few more feet, he almost ran home. He was so close to the gate when he felt the similar cold metal pressed against his back.

He froze in shock. He didn't hear anyone walking behind him, didn't see anyone around. It was almost as if the person emerged from the shadows to drag him back into hell from which he had escaped. He couldn't move and he cursed is muscles and his body, how could it betray him in a situation like this. He feared to turn around, he feared to do anything at all. His hand was gripping the keys so tightly, he felt them poking his skin a little too harshly. His hand was getting wet, the open punctures mixing with cold sweat and stinging him. His heart was ready to jump out of his chest, his stomach the size of a golf ball. He thought he might pass out, the gate in front of him disappearing behind a dizzy mess. The metal pushed into him harder before he heard a high pitched swishing noise and the metal was gone, the gun falling to the ground along with the person holding it. His brain stopped.

He had no clue what to do. Him turning around and looking back felt like it lasted a million years, yet it all happened in just a few seconds. His eyes met with his savior's once again. He saw the man again, a gun hanging in his hand. Stan didn't know whether to be happy or just pass out as he had planned to. It almost seemed surreal, being saved twice by him. He didn't want to have anything to do with this whole situation though. “Thank you,” he faintly whispered, words refused to properly come out of his throat. All the man heard was probably a mess of the letters that decided to come out. The man had the same dull look on his face, this time had deeper bags under his eyes. He still looked absolutely intimidating and Stan didn't want to move an inch until he either put the gun away or tell him to do so. His mind wanted to convince him that the man wasn't there to hurt him, he saved his ass twice. The lights on the street weren't working, he noticed as his eyes never left the man. He didn't have enough guts to look at the lifeless man lying beside him. He couldn't, he couldn't bear looking at a body again.

The man threw his gun near the man, leaving it on the street. “We need to get out,” he strictly stated, his eyes following Stan's every move. He knew there was no way of turning back now, seeing how vulnerable and in danger this kid was. As much as he knew he had to protect him now, he hoped the kid would be his key to the throne. Stan didn't respond though, his knees just gave up for a second, making him stumble while staring at one single spot on the pavement with big, dreadful eyes. It was a bad sight.

“Stan,” Kyle spat out, nodding his head towards the dark street. “Now.”

It didn't take more than raising his voice a little bit to make Stan snap out of it and slowly drag his trembling body towards where Kyle pointed. He didn't know where they were going, who even was this man that was saving him constantly but everything seemed to make so little sense now, going with him seemed like the smartest idea. “W-Who are yo-ou?” he whispered, wrapping his jacket tighter around his body. He felt incredibly cold, despite this being an unusually warm night. He didn't care that he probably wiped the blood from his hand on that jacket, his mind was completely empty at that moment. “Kyle,” he heard the man answer but he doubted he'll remember it in 15 minutes. He started wondering where the man knew his name from, how did he even find him. How was he in the right place at the right time. He just wondered, not having enough energy to ask all those questions. “And why... are you here for me?”

The man beside him scoffed. Why was he here for him? Because you can't even defend yourself in one goddamned dark alleyway, Kyle laughed silently. “Because you might be my one-way ticket out of hell.”


	3. Chapter 3

The car just kept going and going, Stan felt lost in the city he knew so well. The city was becoming one big blur, tears making his eyelashes heavy but yet to fall. He was dazed, his mind was stirring so much he felt like he couldn't think about one thing. It was such a mess, he hated every second of it. He didn't know what was going to happen to him now, he felt hopeless and empty, it was like waiting for your own death. “Where are we going?” he whispered, asking the man cautiously. What difference would it make if he pulled out a gun and shot him right there? He wanted to be put out of this misery as soon as possible.

“I don't know,” the man firmly said but if Stan had listened more closely, he would've heard the hesitation in his voice. He couldn't think clearly either and it felt like the whole thing was slipping out of his hands. He didn't think this through, he cursed himself. He despised the feeling of losing control, he was supposed to be the one with a plan and the upper hand. Now, he was just as lost as the kid beside him. He got himself into some complicated shit, he didn't even want to think about what he pulled Stan into. It was for his own good, he tried to convince himself. To solve the mess that he started. But another part of him was telling him that giving that kid some protection was the least he could do.

Kyle stopped the car out of nowhere, in the middle of the road. No one was out at this hour anyway. “What?” slipped out of Stan's mouth in shock, seeing that the car was no longer moving. They were in the middle of a street, somewhere in between flats that he didn't recognize. ‘Oh, this is it,’ the worst came to mind as he looked at how tightly the man beside him was gripping the steering wheel. It almost seemed like he was nervous but... that was very unlikely. “You've got a phone I could use?” the man asked, reaching his hand out to the boy. Even though all of his common sense was telling him not to do it, Stan found his hand reaching into one of the pockets just because he was so scared of what would happen if he didn't do it.

The moment Kyle grabbed it, he stepped out of the car and looked around, searching for a good spot. A nearby river got his attention, he took a few steps closer and with all his might threw the phone as far as he could. He silently watched it sink under the surface until the boy in his car barged out, yelling at him. “Dude, what the fuck!” he heard the boy say but the second he turned around and faced him, he could see all the courage in his face instantly drain away.

In a slight moment of bravery, Stan stepped out, shouting after the man yet still hiding behind the passenger's door. He did, after all, just throw his phone in the river for no apparent reason. But when he caught the look in the man's eyes as he turned around, he regretted everything he had done. For Christ's sake, why did he step out of the car? Did he forget he this guy gunned down like five people in front of him? Stan gripped the door, fear, and panic building up in him once more as the man approached him. He stopped just a few short steps in front of him, not moving a single muscle in his face. Stan swallowed dryly, still staring into the man's face as he couldn't tear his eyes away.

“Do you want to have another gun pressed into your spine anytime soon?” the man silently asked, leaning in a little bit closer. Stan held his breath, all he could do in pure shock was slightly shake his head. “Thought so.”

“Get in the car.”

Kyle grabbed the steering wheel firmly, making sure he looked assured and unbothered but, as much as he didn't want to admit to it, he was getting more and more nervous with each second they spent on the road without a plan.

The car started moving again and everything fell silent. It was near 4 in the morning and they just steered between houses for a good while. “So... aren't you going to miss the guns you... threw... away there?” Stan tried to spark up a conversation, not hoping for much of a result. How much of a quality conversation can you have in a situation like this, really? His voice was still shaking but at least he could speak properly now. The only hope he had was that the man had saved him, why would he hurt him now. Even after convincing himself he was relatively safe, he still didn't dare to look up at the man and kept his eyes glued to the outside world.

“I don't kill people from this close often,” the man casually stated, without a blink of an eye but Stan's breath stopped midway. His mind was riddled with even more questions now. What the hell, so he gets rid of people often? He felt his stomach turn and twist, getting sick. How in the hell did he get himself into this? ‘Don't kill like this often,’ he repeated to himself, laying his head on the window. A sarcastic laugh left his lips quietly, earning him a look from the man beside him. He didn't say a word though. He was too occupied with his thoughts to say anything.

“So uh... where are we going?”

Nothing.

“Is this like... regular with you?”

Nothing.

“So how did you get into this?” Stan tried to spark up a conversation but it didn't work. He didn't even know why he was trying, this was a stupid idea. He didn't know where he was even trying to go with it, he didn't give two shits about how that guy beside him got into it.

Kyle had to stop his eyes from rolling all the way around. “Listen, pumpkin,” he started, stopping the car in a secluded garage, far from any living beings. “There's not much you can get out of me,” with that he got out of the car but didn't leave Stan much time to catch up. It took him some time to snap out of whatever state of mind he was in. As he was about to step out, a quick thought of running away flashed through his mind. He... maybe he could do it. He was in pretty decent shape, maybe he could make a run for it. After all, that guy threw his gun away, how much more likely was he to have another one in him. His eyes quickly scanned the area, he felt like this was life or death once again.

Slowly, he opened the door, not stepping out yet. The garage is open, the door won't close that fast. If he could just run out and hide for a little while, maybe he could get out. His survival instincts were operating, he could feel his heart in his throat. He was still wondering whether he should do it. But honestly, what could even follow this journey? Sure, the guy may have saved him but what is next? He couldn't even imagine, it still seemed so surreal what was happening. But the guy didn't look like good news, untrustworthy at best.

His heart was beating as fast as it could, he could see it from under his shirt. He felt weak and shaken but something in him gave him the energy to bullet out of the car, just to be grabbed by his arm once again. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, someone's fingernails digging in, all before he could realize what was happening. Such a stupid fucking idea, he thought as his plans were canceled. He was maybe two steps away from the car when the man grabbed him, stopping him in one swift motion. Too much adrenaline was flowing through him before to realize how dizzy he was feeling. His head spun, his knees felt like they'd give up in a second. He hated every second of it, especially feeling the man's grip tighten and just dig deeper into him.

When he was going out, he didn't even notice him standing so close. Somehow, he didn't know how...

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, he was slammed against the car. The man just threw him against it but didn't move a bit. Stan somehow gathered enough will and courage to look up, not even noticing the pulsing pain in his back. The man's sharp stare sent shivers down his spine and he knew he fucked up at that moment. He thought he couldn't be blamed though, it was just basic survival instincts. He could not tell what the man was about to do. He couldn't read anything from the look on his face. It was so unbelievably empty and cold, yet he knew nothing good was coming. Those eyes drilled into his soul, sucking out every last bit of courage and hope.

“Are you fucking insane?” the man quietly asked, not a bit of emotion showing up. Stan could tell he was in big trouble but was glad for the distance between him and the man at that moment. He must've looked like a lost puppy, scared, terrified. He couldn't get a word out of him, holding onto the car for some support. The man repeated his question, still no answer.

“If you want to have a gun against your back anytime soon and end up in a fucking acid barrel, sure, go and run,” the man gestured outside the garage, still standing still as a rock. Stan was so overwhelmed, he felt like his insides smashed into one tiny ball and his head was flying somewhere else. He looked up at the man, with fearful eyes, anticipating to see maybe a gun pointed at him or the same stone-cold look. He looked up and saw the man suddenly relax a little and step back. He didn't understand what was happening, not in the slightest but his gut was telling him it's nothing good.

“So what is it going to be, pal?” the man quietly asked but it sounded way harsher and demanding than when he spoke before. He could hear him scoff, tired o this behavior. “You staying here?” the man threw his hand forward and pointed at the car Stan was leaning on. “Or are you running away?”

Stan couldn't say a word. Up until this moment, he didn't realize how close to death he came. In a moment, he had the picture of himself with his brain all over the floor, a pool of blood spreading around. It was terrifying, his knees collapsed under him and all the things he held back and kept locked up broke loose. “Fucking hell,” he whispered into the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to cover up his red puffy eyes. With each second he sat there, crying, he felt more and more ashamed, he wasn't even scared anymore, just ashamed he's bawling again. These last few days were getting to him, everything changed so dramatically he couldn't hold his feelings anymore.

Meanwhile, Kyle just stood over him, watching the boy cry violently, the sighs muffled, barely audible but he could still see his shoulders shake. A little voice told him he should do something but he stopped himself in the process. He made reckless decisions, he got what he deserved. If he plans on sticking around, this boy can't be bawling over every single little thing. If he's down on his knees because of this, how is he going to react when he sees the monstrosities this lifestyle brings? Kyle wasn't planning on ruining his mentally, after all. “Are you done?”

It was the first thing that broke the silence, suddenly the sobs stopped and Stan looked up with cried-out eyes but they fell down again, blankly looking at one spot in front of him. No more words said.

 

He felt the sharp pain of Kyle's nails digging into his wrist as he was pulling him somewhere. Or maybe just making sure he won't try to make a run for it again. Who knows. All he knew was that it hurt like hell, the burns from like two days ago haven't yet healed. Every time he looked at his wrists, he saw the ropes tying them, he saw himself in that God damned car that started this whole mess. Kyle was telling him that this was for the best, for both of them but Stan didn't believe a word he said. He got a little lost in his thoughts, his steps slowed down what caused Kyle to pull on his chafed skin even harsher. More of a reflex than a conscious decision, he jerked his arm away from the man, rubbing his wrist as he tried to make the pain go away. Kyle looked at him with a nasty look, however, he received the same from Stan. “Listen, boy,” he mumbled and stepped back with his eyes rolling back. “I don't need to be doing any of this,” he lied through his teeth, but his look stayed confident and stance firm.

“Then don't.”

“Big words coming from someone who was bawling his eyes out just a few minutes ago, isn't it, chap?”

However, Stan wasn't planning on stepping back. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the sleepless night, he didn't know. He cried out the fright and initial doom, what more was there to do. “Are you calling me chap just because you don't remember my name anymore?” he teased Kyle, catching up with him. By the look on his face, he was right. “It's Stan, for fuck's sake,” he added as a matter of fact, but couldn't blame him, really. He listened to the sound of his shoes stepping against the pavement, it was the only thing breaking the silence. The sound of them heading into an unknown direction. Usually, he'd be scared. He would've been looking for a way out but what kept him calm was that the man couldn't hurt him even if he wanted.

Kyle wasn't the one to waste words. He still wasn't exactly sure where they were going, though, by the looks of it, they were approaching his flat. Not that he wanted to go there, it was his only option. He told himself that if he came up with something better, he'd change their direction immediately but nothing came to mind. He cursed his mind for being so blank at that time, his nerves forcing him to light up one cigarette after another. He was soon about to run out.

What is he going to do with this kid? He had no answer to that either. Kyle hoped things would unfold themselves along the way but these situations only brought more questions than solutions. He didn't know why those guys were after this kid, he didn't know where to keep him safe or out of sight. He hardly knew how he got himself into this mess. It's what he hated, not being on complete control of what's happening. His usual job was far from this. He got the name and some basic info, all on paper so he could burn it later. Preferably from another city. He'd prepare every detail, every step and every move, both his and his subject's. And when everything fell into place, just like he wanted it to, he pulled the trigger. One shot. That's all it takes. That's the simplicity of it, that's what he loved. No traces left, the investigators wanted to find him but had nowhere to start. How to track him down if there are no tracks? There was something about it that made him just so arrogant and cocky, he felt like he was the boss to everyone he spoke to. He loved it, having the upper hand and power over everyone. That's why this situation made him feel so uneasy and worried. Kyle had no idea what could happen, what kind of intrigues people would pull. It was eating him from inside.

Before he knew it, they were standing in front of the front gate. “What now?” Stan snapped at him, shooting him another dirty look. But like the professional that Kyle was, he didn't let anything be seen on his face and unlocked the front door. Stan couldn't believe he really lived in a regular flat, in a regular complex just somewhere in the town. “Well go in,” Kyle said, feeling more than annoyed, and pushed him inside by Stan's shoulder. “Jesus what? You think I've set up traps? Or did you think I lived in a crack den? Move it, hun,” he spat out and walked past the startled boy, who still hasn't moved.

As soon as Stan was inside, he was acting like a lost puppy once again. All the courage he had walking here vanished. He'll never know why but Kyle's presence and him letting him inside his home felt quite unreal. He'll never know how he ended up here. He had to remind himself that he was in a contract killer's home and to better not mess things up for himself. He looked around in the dark, trying to make out some shapes and objects but it was just too dark. He reached his hand out, guiding his way to what he guessed was the living room. “Just turn on the light,” the man behind him hissed, reached over him from behind and hit the light switch, blinding both of them for a second. Before Stan's eyes got used to the light, Kyle was gone.

The older man locked himself away in the bathroom, needing some time to think. He ran cold water in the sink, slapping some on his own face. ‘Get your shit together,’ he encouraged himself, looking up into the mirror and looking into his own eyes. That convinced him that he'll have all this under control. It will all go according to his plan.

Meanwhile, Stan was sitting on the couch, too scared to even move, he just took off his jacket as it was getting too hot in there by each second. His eyes scanned the lit living room, studying all the details and furniture. It looked like a completely normal home, he was honestly expecting to see drug packages and guns and whatever. Not just a few coffee cups, booked, stashes of paper and ashtrays. As much as he wanted to explore the around a little bit, his feet were glued to the floor. Where does he keep all the guns? he wondered. What even would he find if he snooped around for a little bit?

A loud noise woke him up a little, he jumped on the seat and turned to the source of the disturbance, just to find the man standing in the doorway with his arms folded on his chest. The strict and cold look never left his face. He could probably see how Stan was staring at him, like a little kid. “Okay so listen,” he started, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “First thing tomorrow, we're getting rid of you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stan's heart shot up into his throat as he tried to process what the man has just said. “You are... what?” he quietly whispered, eyes wide open. Kyle had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at this site. He didn't think he could get a man, who wanted to appear so tough, piss scared just by saying this. Did he really think he went through all this shit just to simply shoot and throw him in the river a day later? No, no, of course, he didn't, bodies tend to get washed up a few days later.

He quickly got over his stupid smile, realizing this kid was now his responsibility. It was all fun and games until it wasn't actually him who had to take care of him long term. Taking care as in getting him not killed. His mood got even worse when he dug deeper into the topic. Is he going to have to teach him how to use a gun? How to hide the clues and stay hidden? He knew nothing about this kid, how is he going to remold him into a person he needs him to be? It isn't easy kicking the humanity out of a kid who has joy screaming out of his eyes. What if he can't be ruthless though? He imagined every bad scenario. What if he starts to feel bad for the victims. Sure, it's cruel to want this kid to have no conscience but it isn't impossible. After these years, Kyle had none. He doesn't see victims as people. They're just plain targets, nothing more.

What if he just won't be able to deal with it. He needs him to have nerves of steel, he needs him to hold his shit together. Kyle hasn't been building all this up, being a ghost killer just for some nervous pissy anxious teenager to ruin all of this. Worst of all, what if he turns his back on him. Rat him out, to the police or worse, to the family that's been after him. Was there a way to really seal his mouth shut? Unfortunately, no but he hoped that saving his life was enough of a reason for Stan to stay loyal. Hundred percent loyal.

“You're going to be one tough cookie,” Kyle whispered to himself, his spirits sinking to the bottom. How in hell is he going to do this? Moment after moment, he started to regret this more and more. Stan heard him and was getting very impatient, he still hasn't received an answer yet. “What the hell do you mean?” Stan hissed, his angry spirit appearing once again. Many people would crumble under the pressure of his stare but it did nothing to the older male. Nothing. “Listen cookie,” Kyle started, making his steps towards Stan who simultaneously moved away. “You could jump me at night with a knife under my neck and I would still. Finish. You. Off,” Kyle whispered the last few words, maintaining eye contact with the younger man as he sat down next to him. He knew he could make people go down under the pressure of his words, good thing Stan was already sitting down.

He was almost having a good time with this. “As for the first part,” his voice casually returned to normal and he leaned a bit farther. “We're getting rid of you.” Stan still had that dumb confused look on his face. He just wasn't as scared. “That answers literally nothing,” he annoyingly remarked. Kyle sighed deeply, he really wasn't in the spirits to explain everything to him but he knew that unless he did, the kid won't let him go to sleep in peace. “You are under my wing now and I now have to make sure you're safe and well... alive. I can't risk people still going after you for some time so we'll have to make your tracks disappear.”

“What does that mean?”

“We'll have to kill you.”

“We? Kill me?” Stan was getting jumpy again and Kyle started to question why he was teasing this kid so much. “Yeah, fake your death, get you a death certificate, all that boring stuff.” Stan obviously got relieved, but not everything was clear yet. “How?”

“You'll disappear during a hike and then the mysterious arsonist in your city will strike again or something, bada-bing bada-boom, case closed” Kyle casually said and was on his way to go but Stan quickly grabbed his hand. He wasn't ready to accept the fact that Kyle had just summed up his whole disappearance and alleged death in one damned sentence. Kyle felt the strong pull of Stan's cold hand and crashed down on the sofa once again. “Okay, no. Too vague. You're going to explain it to me in better detail now,” he got angry again and it distressed Kyle once again. What if he's like this all the time? He won't last one day. But he won't be getting up from this couch anytime soon, considering Stan's grip on his arm.

With a dramatic eye roll, he leaned back and started. “Fine, look. You're going to hit up some friends, tell them you're going on a hike but somehow you won't come back. You won't leave any traces that way and look, who knows what might have attacked you. Nobody, no bones. You've got any tests coming up?”

“Yeah, it's around finals now. But how am I hitting them up if you threw away my phone?”

“Well, for starters, I'm not sorry because that was for protection. We're trying to leave no traces of us in the database or... or web or whatever. So what you're going to be doing, is you'll land your ass in a library, use the computers there. Talk about finals, then the hike.” Stan sat silent for a while. “That... that's the last they'll hear of me, huh?” he sighed, sadness in his voice. It was just now that he realized he had to leave everything behind. It hit him like a bus. Not even parents, he had basically no relationship with them after past incidents. As much as he tried to patch things up, they forgot they had a son. But he's going to be leaving behind people who've helped him when he was feeling to lowest and didn't hesitate for a moment to offer him a helping hand. It felt unfair to just disappear. And what about college? He had just started to get the gist of it all, got an internship, it started all going so incredibly well and got so fucked up just because. Why, thousand times why.

Kyle noticed Stan has gone silent and has been staring into the wall for a few minutes. He didn't know how to react, should he intervene and maybe comfort him or just stay out of this completely? Dealing with emotions definitely wasn't his part. Both just sat there, frozen in time. “And um then...” he started and watched whether or not Stan would snap out of his daydreaming. Slowly, Stan was brought back, staring at Kyle and waiting for him to continue but the eyes, God those eyes were so dull, Kyle could probably tell him to jump in a pit of fire and he would. He just hoped the younger man won't start crying again. “And... there were like some arsonist attacks in your area so we'll use that as a cover-up.”

“What.. about my stuff?” It sounded so lifeless again, Kyle considered dunking him in a cold bath, just to bring some life into him. “You'll just have to get whatever you can. Listen, you'll just have to grab whatever basic, dark colored clothes you have. I mean I see you've got this... jacket,” he pointed at Stan's leather jacket that was lying on the side, “and that extravagant shit is not going to work out. We've got to make you blend in, hide you in the crowd. Just know you'll lose the rest in a fire.” Maybe not the best way to finish the conversation, but Kyle was finally free from Stan’s grip and took the chance to leave. Before he left him in there, he stopped in the doorway and turned back at the miserable kid sitting on his sofa. “It’s like 3 in the morning. We’ll leave at 6, try to get some rest.” Before Stan could complain, the lights were turned off and the whole world turned dark again.

Neither of them got any sleep that night. Stan felt it will be harder and harder to stay alert throughout the day, it was his second night getting no sleep. He wondered how in the hell was he even awake at this point. Maybe he was getting too tired to fall asleep. He felt like a deflated ball, all the stuff Kyle has put him through these past two days was just too much. He was now realizing that that may be what he will be going through day by day. Such a vision made his stomach twist and he thought he may need to go find the bathroom soon. Still, nothing made any sense. When he tried to look back at all of the past events as clearly as he could. He woke up in a car with a contract killer, tied up, was used as a bait and then almost left in an abandoned warehouse. Kicked out of a car, the next day nearly kidnapped again. Actually, he was, just by the same person. Drove to a nearby city, tried to escape, was dragged to a flat and now what. He’a going to fake his own death, for what? Why’s he even here, what’s in the future for him? He couldn’t even imagine where a rollercoaster like this could lead. He’s Kyle’s ticket out of hell? How did he find him, there is nothing special about him. How could he possibly help him? Questions like this riddled his mind until he realized that the only thing covering him was his jacket. Not enough, he realized as he started to shiver. He hasn’t felt shitty like this in a long, long time. That dick didn’t even give him a blanket, not even a God damned blanket to get at least two measly hours of sleep. It did take some courage and convincing himself but eventually, he stood up and was ready to tell Kyle every single thought going through his mind. He didn’t know where he was going, which room he should go to but the light was coming out of only one of them, that was probably Kyle’s.

His attention was grabbed by the front door. How hard could it be to just make a run for it? Stan remembered the garage situation but there still was this primal survival instinct that told him to get out, to vanish. It screamed inside him, so loudly. “Thinking of sneaking out?” he was brought out of his mischievous thought by a voice coming out of the room. Obviously startled, he turned his head that way and found Kyle standing in the doorway. As much as he tried to, no words were able to come out to defend himself, he was caught off guard and it showed. “Or just taking a look around my flat?”

With the last bits of strength, he managed to mumble out that he was looking for a blanket. “It sure won’t be in the hallway, will it?” Kyle snapped back rudely. Arms crossed on his chest and that same stone cold look didn’t help to make him look any friendlier either. “There might be one on the balcony,” he finally said and pointed his head towards the living room.

“What are you even doing up?” Stan asked and Kyle didn’t appreciate him being this nosy. “Just doing some business,” he said barely loudly enough and disappeared behind the slamming door.

 

He didn’t close an eye the whole night but it was time to go. Quickly, he brewed himself a hot cup of coffee and grabbed a packet of cigarettes lying around. He barged into the living room, opening wide the balcony door too. “Wake up,” he nudged the sleeping boy but he didn’t move an inch. “Hey,” he tried once again but it had the same effect. ‘Oh Jesus, I hope he’s not dead,’ crosses Kyle’s mind and then he tried again, more forcefully this time and it seemed like it worked. “We’re leaving in 10 minutes, get your shit together.”

“I don’t have any shit on me at the moment,” Stan snapped back and glared at Kyle who was now lighting up a cigarette on the balcony.

“Well, then we can leave now?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Well, no! Give me a second,” Stan mumbled as he tried to untangle himself out of the blanket. “And can’t you make me a cup too?”

Kyle topped off his cigarette, “I’m not your maid. Hurry up.”

 

It took a good 15 minutes for Kyle to drag his still dazed companion to the car. How is he going to work with someone like this, he didn’t know. Maybe he should’ve swallowed his pride and made him some coffee. Whatever he’ll just buy him some later or something. Doesn’t matter. Maybe he’ll wake up in the car.

Kyle let the boy get some sleep in the car, he won’t be that cruel. After all, he’ll need him to pack his whole life in like 10 minutes and he guessed that won’t be easy. It needs to be done though, he isn’t the one making all this shot up. Well, he kind of is. But he just knows how these things work and he’s just keeping them both safe.

It was a quick ride to the nearby city from which Stan was currently vanishing. The roads were clear, no traffic, no cars around. He stopped right in front of Stan’s place and looked around. Not a soul in sight yet. It took him some time to wake him up again. He was still groggy but knew what he had to do. “Wait,” Kyle grabbed his arm before he could exit the car. “Be quiet and be quick.” From the look of Kyle’s face, Stan knew he better not mess up and ran to the front door, quickly unlocking it and jogging up the stairs into his flat.

While Stan was up in his flat, packing almost everything in sight and smushing it into one duffel bag, Kyle was pacing around the car, lighting up another cigarette. It was a habit he maybe wanted to kill but never had enough will to do so. Looking up, he saw Stan in his window, running around and nervously grabbing everything and nothing. He wasn’t too worried about it though, whatever he forgot, Kyle could get it for him. Everything, documents, papers, whatever. Thinking about it, he probably will have to, under a fake name and fake data and everything. Well, at least it’s a bit of fresh air from his usual routine. Suddenly, there was no more movement in the window and as soon as he saw Stan barge out of the front door with a bag in his hand, he was met by a neighbor. Not that Stan didn’t like her, it’s just that this wasn’t the best time to chat with your friendly old neighborhood lady. “Oh and where might you be going?” she asked with a laugh as soon as she saw the bag, her dog jumping up and around Stan excitedly. He quickly tried looking for an excuse to leave and get in the car. “Oh, I’m going on a hike with some friends, yeah. We’re meeting at the station. Oh, would you mind? Seems like my taxi is here already. See you later,” he bid his goodbyes to the lady and approached Kyle as a taxi driver. They put his bags in the trunk, and drove off. “So where will it be, mister?” Kyle asked him with a cheeky grin, driving who knows where. “Never been called a taxi before,” he added before asking Stan for direction to the library.

While Stan was doing his share of work there, Kyle ran some errands Stan had no idea about. It was grueling two hours sitting behind the library computer with economy books laid in front of him, pretending like he was taking notes. Messages were popping in the background and with each one, it was getting just a bit harder. He knew very well he could just get up and leave but what use would that be. Kyle would probably find him again and if not, he’s been left out there for someone to shoot him. Just now he was realizing how much he will have to rely on Kyle from now on. Everything he’ll have, all his papers, the roof above his head, everything will come from him. He laughed to himself, how did he manage to find a sugar daddy? Maybe it was the two hours of sleep in the past two days, maybe this realization but he just couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving the library now. It pained him to think about how he could be free and how close it was but not really. That he could get his own freedom once again but at what cost. The smile was gone from his face, it was replaced by teary eyes that he hid in his palms. How could he do this? To all the people around him? To himself? How is he going to go on? Just how?

Before he could grieve some more, the same black car pulled up on the front of the library and he knew it was time to go. Quickly returning his books and throwing away papers that were filled with just scribbles, he was in that damned car once again. After some time of driving in silence, Kyle was the one to break it. “So, if you care to know,” he shot Stan a glare, “the system thinks you’re dead now. The death certificate’s in the back.” Stan was hesitant but he reached for it. He regretted it immediately as now it was getting too real. “Is this... for real?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“I know people in the right places,” Kyle casually remarked, his eyes not leaving the road. They parked in front of a small building. “What’s our business here?”

“It’s a coffee shop.”

“So?”

“So we’re getting coffee. You look like a walking corpse. What do you want?”

“A caramel latte, thanks.” Stan hissed back at Kyle who shot him a nasty look and left the car to go get their orders. Stan quickly ran after him, so Kyle could lock the car.

As they were leaving, Stan was about to go back into the car but Kyle was on his way to a nearby park. “Come on here, you are not making a mess in my car with that damn croissant,” he yelled after him with a dead serious look, not waiting for him to catch up.

“Oh my God, this is like our first date,” Stan exclaimed like an excited valley girl but got no reaction from Kyle and they continued walking in awkward silence. “So how come you just go about with your day like a normal person?” Stan tried to snoop into Kyle’s life once more. He wasn’t sure if it’d work and he also didn’t know if he wanted it to. This man just pried himself into Stan’s life’s and he didn’t know how to take it. He didn’t know anything about him. How long was he going to stay there? Probably long enough, considering they’re roommates now. At least now, Stan didn’t have anything to lose. But the atmosphere between them was still so cold, almost freezing. Stan felt that Kyle had to go way out of his way to drive him into the city that one time, not to mention letting him in his car and his home. Stan understood how much he was invading his privacy, Kyle let him feel that with the tone of his voice and the look of his face but he didn’t ask for any of this. God knows if that’s even his real name. Thinking about it, it’s almost the same as when Stan woke up tied up in a car. But now, he’s still scared, just not of Kyle. He’s the little security he has.

“Normal person,” Kyle quietly repeated after him with a sly grin. “For all they know, I’m in PR,” he said, throwing away his cup. Yeah, that’s what he told people. He works in PR, in some unknown company, blah blah blah.

“But how do you stay under the radar so well?”

“I never work in the city,” Kyle said, sharp spring sun hitting him in the eyes. “You have to understand, I’m a gho-” Before the older man could finish, he was interrupted by a roaring fire truck dashing through the streets. Its loud sirens made both men stare at the truck and forget about the whole conversation. “What’s that?” Stan asked, still looking at the now disappearing truck.

“I don’t know, maybe a forgotten cigarette, maybe an arsonist, maybe a bad accident.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was one bang after another and then the sound of bullets flying through targets. Bang, bang, bang. As focused as his eyes were at the middle, only one of those shot bullets actually hit the intended place. He was getting so frustrated with it, endlessly reloading the gun and shooting with greater rage every time. He couldn't even count how many times he shot at the stationary target, it was all mixed into one big blur and all he wanted to do was throw the gun away and walk out of there. But he knew his hands were tied until he shot all three bullets into the middle of the target and from the looks of it, that was far from now. 

Meanwhile, Kyle was sitting on a nearby log, had ear protection on and was watching the whole messy scene with dread building up inside him. For the past few weeks, it's been a wild ride of him either believing this was a good decision and that Stan will somehow drag his ass out of this hellish situation or fearing that he might as well be the one that will get them killed. Burning the apartment, getting a death certificate, hiding him from the real world, those were all responsibilities that were becoming too big to handle. He didn't realize that until the deed was done and that wasn't something that had happened to him before. Usually, he was used to his plans being thought out to the smallest details, the last seconds, his every step, his every breath planned perfectly. But that was all technical matter, stuff that his brain just went through like a bullet. Now, when it came to Stan and predicting where things will go, with both him and the men that wanted him or them dead, that was a whole another thing. Why they wanted him was still unclear, however, Kyle had the foresight to get someone working on it. He knew he wouldn't get the best results unless he did it himself, but it was a risk he was willing to take. So far, he only knew why they wanted his own head, and killing those guys just basically confirmed the target that was on his forehead permanently. Why they were after a seemingly innocent kid from college, that was kind of a mystery. He hasn't had much time to look into him and from the time he had, he gathered nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Kyle would've continued his train of thoughts if it weren't for the cigarette he had been holding burning down and burning his fingers. He dropped it into the grass with a slight hiss, shaking his hand to cool it off a little bit. He looked at Stan, frustrated as ever, barely gripping the gun anymore. He didn't know how he'll do it, deal with him. But he sure as hell won't leave the spot and put down the gun until he learns how to hit a target. And a pretty easy one. He hasn't wasted countless bullets and hours, it will be a few days now, teaching this kid to not hit cardboard. “God damn it, Stan, give me the gun,” he yelled after the younger man, pulling down the headphones and marching towards him. He expected to see Stan with the same fearful eyes that he always had, that Kyle was becoming used to. He hated it though, fear was just not something acceptable here. Instead, Stan looked at him with a firm, angry look, almost as if he was trying to glare a hole into Kyle's head. Kyle ripped out the gun from his hands, stood on his place and pointed it at the target. Stan only heard a few loud breaths and then loud blasts. They were too fast one after another to count. As the man was shooting, he looked away in a bit of shock and when he turned back, all the saw was this furious maniac holding his gun and four bullet holes in the cardboard, in a straight line, right in the middle. “See? How fucking hard was that?” the man spat, giving him back the weapon. “Obviously pretty hard, considering my time standing here,” Stan growled back, gripping the pistol and seriously considering ramming it across Kyle's head.

“I'm done,” he added before turning away, on his way to leave. His was about to take his second step on his way to independence before a hand gripped his sleeve, pulling him back. Stan only grew more and more furious, he turned around and made sure Kyle could see it in his eyes. The tension in his chest was becoming unbearable, he felt like he was going to burst soon. “I said I'm fucking done here,“ he repeated himself, a little proud of the brave move he had made. Jerking his arm away, he decided to claim his independence and walk away only to be pulled back with even more force. He didn't expect that he tumbled back and almost hit the ground but managed to stand up. This just sent him over the edge, he couldn't hold all of his feelings inside anymore. He had never felt so pissed and frustrated before. His mind went blank with rage and without thinking, he swung his arm at the man gripping his jacket. 

 

 

It's been a good few minutes and the blood flow has just started to slow down. He's been holding the hem of his shirt up to his lip, trying to soak up the blood but decided it's better to not ruin a shirt and just let it drip occasionally. Maybe it wasn't too much blood, it just seemed like it since it has been flowing out of his mouth. The pain was getting better, it just would've been even better with some ice. Meanwhile, Kyle stood nearby, lighting up another cigarette. They've been quiet the whole time but at least the tension between them was now released. Stan spent this quiet time thinking about what led him to do this, and what he did in the past that karma decided this was the best for him. Not only was he 100% depended on a God damned serial killer, but he also had a busted lip because he couldn't control his temper. Just thinking about it, he could feel himself getting mad again. He tried to breathe in the fresh air of the forest that they were in and somehow it helped a bit but that meant nothing, considering he was getting angry every time he looked back a Kyle. The older man was, on the other hand, just lighting up one smoke after another, trying to concentrate and figure out how he's going to teach this kid to hold a gun. Holy hell, did he not know where he's going with all this. No idea at all. 

“You really didn't have to,” Stan remarked, wiping the rest of the blood off of his mouth. He glared up at the older man who sure as hell saw the frustration in his eyes. But he was not letting go of his goal. He's going to get him to shoot decently. “Yes, I sure as fuck had to, sweetie. If I didn't bust your lip, you would've been here throwing punches left and right until you would've gotten shot,” Kyle broke it down to him, ashing his cigarette and in the end feeling so discouraged, he threw it into the grass. “I just need you to keep your head in place. You won't get anywhere acting macho when every guy has got a gun on him.” Stan still wasn't accepting this lousy explanation and the look in his eyes hasn't changed. But he managed to keep his cool. “Why do I even need to know this?“ 

“Because you're my damn ticket out of this,” 

“Oh, so I am just doing all this for you?”

“Yeah and so hell, what if you are? Where else are you going to go? What are you going to do?” He sealed Stan's mouth shut. Nowhere. He had nowhere to go. An overwhelming feeling slowly crept up on him, like he was just a dirty rag that Kyle was using to clean up his damn mess. Maybe he should just take himself out with that gun. Plain and simple, no more fighting with Kyle, it's like yelling at a wall. “Come on, I'm here to help,” he suddenly heard and could feel how much the other man was fighting with himself, just to say that. It must've taken so much convincing himself to sound human for once. “You know this shit isn't easy,” Stan mumbled, looking away as he didn't want to look Kyle in the eyes when he admitted it. He hated looking weak, looking like he couldn't do something. Especially in a situation like this, when it could save his life. It felt like he was a little kid, depended on Kyle's help for God knows how long. He just wanted to leave and forget this has ever happened. 

“Yeah I know it's hard and you should be glad you've got someone who shoots heads off from a mile away on a daily basis helping you. Now get up and come on,” he answered, grabbing Stan's hand and dragging him to the shooting spot like a pissy kid. He looked like one too. He pushed him into the right spot and Stan's fingers over the pistol he's been holding. “Stand up straight,” he commanded.

“Firm arms.”

“Focus.”

“Focus, I said.”

“Zero in, keep calm.”

“Fucking hell, I said focus.”

“I am.”

“No, obviously you aren't. Okay. No pulling the trigger, press it gently.” He watched Stan focus in and grip the weapon. “Okay now shoot as you exhale.” He knew breathing could throw a person's aim off. And considering his job, he couldn't be off my one millimeter. Not by one bit, otherwise, he'd lose his credibility and who knows, might end up in a prison cell or better, with a bullet in his head himself. As precise as he had to be, he loved it. He loved how perfect every plan had to be, how accurate every shot was. 

The loud bangs flew forward again, this time two of three hitting their spots. He saw how angry Stan was getting again, just by the look of his face but grabbed his shoulder just in time so he wouldn't run away. “Again,” he spoke calmly presumably to calm down the other guy too. Again. And again. And again, again, again until Stan could make the shot as best as he could. 

 

“Oh my God I can't believe it,” Stan whispered when the bullets finally landed where they were supposed to. The straight line he made was the most beautiful thing he saw today, probably because he was so tired and frustrated. With his last strength, he put the gun on safety and handed it to Kyle before laying down on the grass. He was done, so done with all this but happy he managed to do it. If not a useful skill, it was him proving something to himself. It felt wonderful but it was so tiring. Neither of them even noticed that it was slowly getting darker and colder. But his mind was finally back in the real world, not in a hidden, lost shooting ground or swaying in anger and resentment. He felt chills from the wind that was picking up and wanted to leave at that very moment, as pretty as the whole scenery was getting, dipped in the dark blue moonlight. 

It was a long way to the car, he didn't even realize how far in they were in the hills. Not until they had to walk the whole way back in the dark, he felt himself jump at the slightest sounds and movements. Maybe he should've focused more on the leaves and sticks below him than the harmless sounds or wind. Kyle was the one to catch him when his foot slipped on some wet leaves that laid in the mud, he almost dragged them both down. As embarrassing as it was, he was too tired to care. He just answered with a quiet hum when Kyle asked if he was okay. They made it to the car and he was happy to be sitting somewhere moderately soft and warm. 

The road took twists and turns but he wasn't the one driving so it didn't matter to him. As tired as he was, he couldn't fall asleep. One thing that bothered him above everything else was how nervous Kyle looked. Like the way he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes and just his body language in general. He seemed so tense and strained. But he didn't know him like that. Maybe it was just him. Kyle parked the car back in the remote garage and cursed the way back into the apartment. It seemed so far. Kyle took it upon himself to keep him awake, he was pretty sure he'd be able to fall asleep midway. It was the first time Stan saw him speak so much, although it was about nothing. But it kept him alert and he appreciated that. A lot. He noticed how sure Kyle was making to not reveal anything about himself, not even giving him a little hint. Nothing. What sinister past was he hiding that he didn't a single word escape? What was this man keeping away from the world? All he got to know about him was his name, his place, his job and his addiction to smokes and coffee. Oh, and the romance novels he kept lying around for no good reason. He said it was to just pass the time and get his mind off of things and Stan didn't believe a word of that. Maybe he was a hopeless romantic looking for the match of his life deep inside? Who knows?

Kyle turned the key and pushed the front door open with his leg and they made their way up to the elevator. Everything was fine until they got out and Kyle stopped in his footsteps. He stopped Stan too by putting his hand on his chest, stopping him midway. Stan could sense something was wrong but that was painfully obvious now and he was no Sherlock. He could sense that something was terribly wrong when Kyle dragged him to the wall and told him to stay there. He didn't understand anything, what was wrong? The hallway was dark and he couldn't see anything, everything was quiet. What was on this man's mind? But to be sure, he kept himself against the wall while Kyle took a few steps forward, kind of crouched and watching his every step. Suddenly he froze, not a hair on his head moving out of place. He signalized at Stan to come closer and when he did, he pushed the gun into his hands. He didn't understand what was happening but from Kyle's looks, he figured that he'd need it. It was the gun that woke him up and made him realize how real this was. What in hell was happening? He felt the familiar know in his stomach, twisting and turning and the blood rushing to his head. His heart was pounding everywhere in his body, his vision was getting a little blurry and closed off until Kyle grabbed his hand and dragged Stan behind him. He gave him one reassuring look that did bring a little more confidence into Stan but also didn't answer any questions, more just made him things even more. “Something's very wrong,” Kyle whispered to him, he was barely able to hear him. “There's someone inside,” he mumbled when they made it to the door. It seemed locked but Kyle knew something was up. “Get ready.”

With the cool of a man that didn't know anything was going on, Kyle opened the door and stepped into the dark, Stan following him. Does he realize he has no gun on him? Stan thought. It all seemed so crazy, how is he so cool about everything? What is happening? “And so I was like no, I don't think the wine will come off!” he laughed and turned his head at Stan, expecting him to continue this fake conversation. As much as he wanted to, his throat was sealed shut, not letting one small sound escape. He closed the door behind them and heard Kyle tell him to turn on the lights. As soon as he did and his eyes got used to the light, he saw two man holding off Kyle who was still keeping everything together. One was holding his from behind and around the neck, a gun pointed to his head. The other one stood between him and Stan, face turned to Kyle and gun pointed at his head too. They knew how much of a threat he was, they came prepared. Stan couldn't understand neither the situation, nor what the men were saying. It was all humming and white noise, he could already see them dead in a barrel. Did Kyle not see this coming? How could he not? He is detained by two guys and they are both pointing guns at him, he has not got one, how is he even handling this?

Stan still hasn't moved an inch, keeping his wide eyes on the whole situation. The men were saying something but he still couldn't hear them, he just saw Kyle's eyes running form his eyes to his hands. The man asked him something, Kyle answered and obviously, it wasn't something they wanted to hear, the grip on his neck getting tighter, the man shaking him to shake out the info. Stan was so lost. At first, Kyle was calm but now he saw the stress in his eyes and his eyes running over Stan even faster. Why isn't Kyle doing anything? Oh, his hands are tied, Stan noticed. 

Gun. The gun. God damn it, this must be what Kyle has been looking at the whole time. The pistols that the men held were getting closer and closer to firing bullets into his brain and Kyle could feel it. Stan pulled out the gun quietly, the men didn't pay any attention to him. He was harmless, he meant no danger. They knew that. He shot Kyle a questioning look, the men dressed in black were too occupied with interrogating Kyle they didn't notice him. Kyle slowly nodded his head, giving Stan a signal to just fire the damn thing but masked it into answering the question. ‘One, two, three,’ Stan said to himself, quickly drawing the gun and, with as much cool as he was able to, pulled the trigger. The gun went off, a bullet flew and blasted through the man's skull. The man holding Kyle fell on the ground, dead in seconds. 

Stan had a tough time processing what just happened. He dropped the gun from his sweaty shaking hands and almost fell too, luckily he caught himself on the wall. He felt himself getting dizzy, his vision darkening. The masked man standing in front of Kyle was caught off guard and turned around to see what has happened. He only saw a mess of a boy, leaning against the wall and shaking. Kyle took advantage of the situation, grabbing the man by the collar and dropping him on his knees. He landed with a loud thud but before he had the chance to yell, he was dragged to the nearest doorframe. Kyle harshly stepped on his back, keeping him on the ground. The man’s head was lying on the porch, Kyle grabbed the living room door and with all his might rammed it close, the edge of the door hitting the man’s neck and head. Then he slammed it once more and then a few times until the man under his foot was no longer moving. Then he closed the door at him once again for a good measure, grabbed the man and threw him out of the door. 

The flat was finally quiet for a while. He turned around to check the scene and his eyes landed on Stan. As panicked as Kyle was, he tried to keep his cool and approached him. He was still sitting by the wall, shaking, with the same blank look on his face. 

Stan’s mind turned off after the incident. He didn’t really catch what’s happened with the second man, his mind was buried under hundreds of questions. He just murdered a guy, he thought to himself. He shot a fucking bullet through his skull. He didn’t know what’s worse, the dead man or the wreck he became. He saw Kyle drop on his knees in front of him and grab him by the shoulders but he couldn’t understand one word he was saying. It took a few minutes of talking and shaking to wake him up from his trance. 

Kyle grabbed his shoulders and shook him a little. Nothing. “Don’t worry, it’s okay, they’re gone,” he whispered but it was like saying it to a wall. He then grabbed Stan’s face to look him in the eyes. “Listen, it’s okay. You had a silencer, you won’t get in trouble. It’s okay,” he reassured him, trying to sound as calm and collected as he could. He saw Stan coming back around, he looked like he was finally back in this real world, even though he was still shaking and didn’t look well. “It’s okay,” Kyle tried to calm him down again. “It was either them or us. Listen, it’s okay. Don't worry. They weren’t after us, they were after one of my contacts. Someone must’ve ratted our or something. I’ll take care of that okay?” he tried to soothe him. He wasn’t sure whether it was working. But he sure knew he’d have to find the snitch and take good care of him. 

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. Shit, they both thought. It was the neighbors at best, police at worst. Kyle sent the younger man to the back, into the bedroom to calm down. He was about to go open the door but stopped, realizing he’s covered in blood. Luckily he ducked when Stan was shooting so no brains this time. “Just a moment,” he yelled at the door, buying himself a few more seconds. He stripped down from his jacket and shirt, both covered in blood and headed into the bathroom, grabbing a bathing robe. On his way to the front door, he dragged the bodies further back so they won’t be visible.

“Hi, oh God, hope I’m not interrupting but I just heard some loud noises and wanted to check if everything was fine.” If was Bebe, his neighbor who often liked to catch up. For her, he was still just a boring accountant. He was so used to telling her about his 9 to 5 and that bitch from PR, he almost believed it himself. It was a good act to play. “Oh yeah sorry, just got some company and having a little problem with the wine,” he lied, giving his neighbor a fake little smile. “Oh my God, you mean that guy I’ve been seeing here so often?” He nodded slightly, again, with that fake sweet smile he has had on the whole time. “Oh damn, he’s a hot piece of ass. So, trying to make a good impression huh?” Kyle shivered at that thought but managed to keep on a friendly face. “Oh yeah. Kinda hard with wine spilled all over my kitchen floor,” he laughed, trying to get himself out of the conversation. But he knew she won’t leave that easily. 

“Come on, Kyle. Hurry up!” someone moaned from the bedroom. Kyle thanked everyone and everything, that seemed to do the trick. Though he wasn’t sure whether Stan was just trying to get him out of this situation or really needed some help. “Oh how impatient,” Bebe laughed and bid her goodbyes, Kyle thanked her for checking up and closed the door. He threw away the bathrobe, grabbed the first shirt he found in the dryer and went to check on Stan.

 He was still in the same bad state, sitting on the edge of the bed in a dark room. Kyle sat down next to this catastrophe of a person, observing if he’ll drag him out of this. “Look I have to take care of some stuff,” he started, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?” Stan shook his head in disagreement, but Kyle was already on his way out. He just hoped Stan would manage. 

 

After two hours and a few phone calls, the bodies and carpet were already gone. He was glad he kept these few contacts, those two bodies will no longer be and no one will find them. Now he just needed to find the person responsible for this mess. He was glad to be going home already, it’s been a long day. The first thing he was greeted with after opening the front door was the bathroom light and sound of someone retching. With a deep sigh, he first visited the kitchen to grab a glass of water with a little bit of lemon. 

“You okay?” he asked the younger man and leaned against the doorframe of his bathroom. Stan looked up at him with puffy red eyes. “Yeah, that should be about everything I ate in the last week,” he mumbled, flushed the toilet and stood up, grabbing the glass to wash out his mouth. Kyle tried to sympathize a little more but he wasn’t capable of doing so. “Get some sleep,” he recommended before leaving Stan with his thoughts once again. 

 

It was late into the night but Kyle couldn’t close an eye. His mind was trying to figure out so much. The info he gathered from those guys wasn’t exactly enough and he had other matters to attend to than looking up to dead men. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe it’ll lead him to the guy who sent them. Or at least he hoped so. His back was against the headboard, legs crossed. Another thing bothering his mind was Stan. Why did he take it so badly? If he reacted that way in a silly situation like this... There’s no point in digging deeper into this. He’ll see. 

What brought his mind out of these thoughts were a few footsteps. He looked up and saw a person standing in his doorframe, leaning against the wall. He didn’t look any better. “Listen I need to ask you for something.”

“What is it?” 

Without words, he made his way to the bed and sat next to Kyle. He ran his hands through his hair, took a deep breath and tried to speak but couldn’t. Kyle tried to understand these emotions but really couldn’t. For him, this was a huge overreaction. This was easily one of the most vanilla things he could see. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“What?”

“I’m not built for whatever I’ll have to do,” Stan whispered and laid his head on Kyle’s shoulder. His default was to move away, he hated being touched. But he forced himself to stay in place, and then it hit him like a truck. Thanks to him, he’s the last thing he has. He forced him to cut off literally everyone he knows and he tries to cut him off too when he's the only person who he can come to. It sparked a little guilt in him but he wasn't capable of feeling much more. He knew this boy needed closure and comfort and unfortunately, he was the only person around but he just couldn't let him drown in all this shit after what he saw. Kyle ran his hand through the boy's hair and pulled him closer. Stan took that as an invitation, he needed someone, something. It didn't matter what. He just needed to feel another person at the moment to remind him he still is one, even after what he had done. He was grateful for Kyle not pulling away, he loosely wrapped his hands around Kyle's torso and buried his head deeper into his neck. “It's okay,” the older man whispered, seeing that Stan was barely holding in his tears. “Don't worry about it.” Even though he himself was worrying about everything at that point, there was no future in two nervous wrecks working together. “We'll figure it out.” Kyle didn't care his shirt was getting wet, he didn't care he was showing a bit of humility. He brought the boy closer to him and it didn't feel wrong. 


	6. Chapter 6

“You know what you have to do?” Kyle asked the younger boy as he unlocked the car doors, letting him out. Stan stepped out on a busy street, in a city that he didn't know. “Do you?” he heard the man yell behind him, getting more and more impatient because he was about to miss the meeting. “No!” Stan yelled back, slamming the doors and waiting for the car to leave. He was only left with the directions to his destination. Sure, Kyle told him all about this... mission but he was too out of his mind to pay attention. It has only been a week since he blew the man's brain out but here he was again, getting blood on his hands again. Or maybe he wasn't. Out of the hour that he was sitting in the car and listening to Kyle, most of it was only white noise. His mind was riddled with messy thoughts. 

He looked around, looking for the nearest crosswalk. Or traffic light? He couldn't even get this straight. His head was spinning and the fact that he was completely alone in a different city with no way to find his way was slowly getting to him. He could've used his phone, except it was in a river. With all his might, he tried to get his thoughts together, tried to gather what Kyle had told him. Nothing. He didn't catch a single word. What now, what now. In a state of panic he didn't even notice it was getting dark. He was brought out of this daze with something buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. It startled him at first, it took a few more rings to make him realize it was a phone. But... how did it get there and God damn, who was calling it? He pulled it out with hesitation and with shaking hands, he answered the call. Before even getting the chance to say anything the caller started talking. “You have no idea how this phone got in, right?” the voice asked, following it with a sigh. Stan was still speechless or more likely too confused. 

“Jesus Christ Stan, it's me,” the voice growled. “How... how come we're using phones now?” Stan asked, looking around as if that would answer anything. “Because that phone is not yours and this car is not mine and there's no way to trace it back to us,” Kyle said through the phone and waited for an answer but the line was silent.

“Listen I saw how gone you were and knew you wouldn't catch. A. Single. Word I was saying.”

“But how-”

“Because I'm in your stupid little head more than you'd like to admit,” Kyle cut him off, growing more and more tired of this. He shouldn't be explaining all of his plan again just because Stan can't wrap his mind around it. It's been a week since the little incident and he still isn't over it? Is he even aware of the things he might see? And a little bit of blood and brains gets him all shook up? “Now listen this is the last time something like this has happened, understand?” Stan felt shivers run down his spine, it has been a long time since he heard Kyle sound this strict. Maybe the last time was when he was tied up in that rotten car with him. Thinking about it, he still didn't get any answers. He asked so many questions and none of them were answered. And so here he was, cut off from the whole world, living in a black void of the unknown. It wasn't the greatest feeling but what he realized over the week was that it was better than being dead. Probably. It probably was. After all, it's been just two weeks or something. He lost track of days.

“You hearing me?” Kyle said, quietly but Stan could feel how he was getting more and more frustrated. “Yes.” 

“Now that's out of the way, I'll need you to throw this phone away after we're done with this. Look into your other pocket, there should be a... like an ear piece or something. I don't know. We'll use that from now on.”

“There's also like a little... pouch?” Stan asked quietly, not pulling it out. With Kyle, he never knew what it might be. “Yeah don't pull that out yet. That's the back-up plan.”

“Okay, and what's the base plan?” Stan tried to keep his voice as low as possible but people were passing by so fast, they couldn't hear much. He made it to the and of the street by now when he heard Kyle telling him to go left. No questions asked, he took the turn and continued straight on. Kyle also told him to stop when he'll be at the hotel. Apparently, he'd know what hotel when he'll arrive there. “Okay anyway, what's the plan?”

“Yeah, so I found out who ratted me out. Thankfully they weren't after me but rather someone who ordered my... services a few months ago. Now I don't know if the contact that gave out my location wanted me dead or just wanted to save his back but in this business, we get rid of people like him. So, we scheduled a little rendezvous, just old friends catching up.”

“Okay, how will that help?” 

“Shut up and let me finish. The guy doesn't hundred percent know it is me whose address he gave out. He just knows it's the person who did the dirty work. Now I know he isn't a genius but he isn't completely dumb either. I'll get him into a sushi restaurant and try to get him as wasted as possible then get rid of him. Not the classiest act but whatever. Thing is he'll probably get cautious, I mean you pretty much try and get someone killed and now an old friend hits you up a week later and wants to meet up?”

“Why would he even agree on going out if he knows your intentions?”

“Because he thinks I can't be totally sure it was him and declining would be suspicious. Mind you, he knows what I do and that I do it well. If things go south, I'll let you know ahead of time. Just get to the hotel and try to not get caught on any cameras. Wait somewhere saf-... shit. Shit, he's here. Okay, destroy the phone when you get the chanc-” With that, the phone ended. Stan didn't know wether he was more confused than before or not. He didn't even know what kind of hotel Kyle was talking about. Only thing left to do was probably walk straight ahead and trust Kyle. 

Stan didn't know it it was his mind playing tricks on him but he saw a light glimmer in the distance. And another one. The whole end of the street was shining gold, it was coming from the right. He sped up, and upon arriving at the end of the road, a big hotel was towering over him. This was probably what Kyle was talking about. He very much hoped.

 

 

Kyle hoped this would work out. Picking and dropping off this son of a bitch was probably the only way he'd get him relatively alone. But he had to make sure his back up plan would work. Sure, shooting the guy in the head was a quick and easy fix but there were so many things to look out for, saying it was a natural cause was much easier. He tried to push down the feeling of guilt when he was telling Stan that he was only needed as a backup plan. He knew he'd freak out if he had told him that he will be in fact getting rid of the rat. From the moment his old friend sat in the car, he could sense the strange mood. This definitely wouldn't be just a quick shoot and go. Things were getting complicated. 

They arrived in the restaurant, got Kyle's car parked and got to their reserved table. It was a quiet private area, they wanted a little privacy. “So, Craig, what have you been up to?” Kyle asked, lighting up a cigarette and grabbing a glass of water put in front of him. As much as he wanted a drink right now, he was the driver. He was genuinely uninterested in what the other man was saying, his gaze resting more on the view behind Craig than the man himself. It was dark already and the city below them was lit up in many colors. The waiter came and interrupted his talking, ready to take the order. Kyle let his friend order what he wanted before he spoke. “How about we also order fugu tonight? I'm feeling a little adventurous.” He gave Craig a little look, hoping for a positive reaction.

“Isn't that the fish that can kill you?” he said with doubt. 

“Not if you prepare it right.”

 

 

Stan was still just far enough so that cameras wouldn't see him. Or so he thought. But how will he get inside? He was standing in the middle of the street, blankly staring at the lit up hotel while ideas ran through his mind. Nope, nope, nope. None of what he thought of would work. He was getting more and more stressed, he needed to get in the hotel now. The least he could do was put the earpiece on. When it was almost in, a man bumped into him, almost making him drop it. Stan was about to turn around and give him a piece of his mind, already feeling antsy because he couldn't get into the hotel. The man didn't pay him enough attention, continuing his talk with the man beside him. “Shit man, I left my cigs in my construction vest. I'll go get them just give me a minute,” said the man who bumped into Stan, turning around but the other man turned him back, grabbing his arm. “You ain't going nowhere. Can't stand those preppy fucks looking at me for five more minutes. We'll get back after out break, they can wait for the pond to be done for a few more hours, no? After all Bob, we should have the new guys coming in today.”

“Hey I mean it's not that bad.”

“Oh it is, you should've seen how the receptionist looked at me when I was getting my stuff into the backrooms. Probably wanted to...” Stan didn't need to hear the rest. he turned around, hoping the men wouldn't notice him. If he put two and two together correctly, he should have a plan in his hands.

Slowly sneaking his was around the back, he the glimpse of what was about to be the new pond the men were talking about. He hoped this will be a safe enough plan. With utmost confidence, he made his way to the construction site sitting around the pond in the hotel’s garden. A few men were sitting around, mostly smoking but not paying attention to him. He quietly sneaked around, making sure no camera or person caught him. What appeared to be a vest and hard hat was sitting on a chair near him. He grabbed it, quickly putting it on. Before he could go any further, a man turned around and saw him. “Hey, who the fuck are you?” he yelled after him, other men turning around too to see what the fuss was about. It took everything in Stan to stay calm and confident. Without looking up, so the men wouldn’t see his face, he fixed the had put on and started making his way towards the hotel. “First of all, none of your fuckin’ business. Second of all, ask Bob, he sent me here for this stuff.” Stan tried to keep his voice as deep as possible, making sure it sounded different from his real one.

“Oh, so you must be the new guy eh? Go put your stuff in the back,” said one of the men sitting around watching the scene when he saw Stan holding his jacket. Without any further hesitation, he was going to do so, keeping his head low and walking fast towards the back entrance. “Hey, what’s your name?” the men yelled after him but he was already on his way inside, ignoring the question. Getting inside was an achievement but also just one thing of the list.

 

 

“Hey, loosen up a little bit,” Kyle laughed, pouring his friend another drink. It was almost funny to him how he put on this whole persona. This mask, a friendly smile and a pat on the back. Some might consider it sick, maybe even Stan. But this was what he had to do to get by. This was a part of his work. And he did it so, so well. 

Craig just smiled and looked away from his phone for a while. “Oh no, I really shouldn't. I've got some duties to attend to after this,” he explained with a sly smile, it almost looked wrong. Kyle's eyes traveled once again from the man to the reflection. The phone he held in his hand was buzzing and messages were popping up quickly, Kyle was sitting barely close enough to read them. His eyes ran between the reflection of Craig's phone and Craig himself, just so he wouldn't notice anything. What worried him more was that he refused to have a second drink. It was so strange for him.  Even though he didn't show it, he was getting more and more nervous. Was he really going to need to step to plan B? 

The guilt never left him. He was trying to convince himself that Stan will be able to do what he needs to, that he won't be able to survive in the world he dragged him into for 5 straight minutes if he pussies out of everything. But something in Stan was trying to awaken a part in him that laid dead for so many years. What was it, compassion or whatever? Kyle didn't care. He refused to believe. As weak as Stan made himself look, Kyle refused to spare him. He'll either man up or get himself killed.

Craig stood himself up and offered to pay the bill. Kyle quickly snapped back, saying he needs to go get the car and making is way out of the restaurant as quickly as he could. He made his way to the parking lot, lighting up a cigarette along on his way. Everything was kind of going to shit, his last clean chance was Stan in the hotel. Just to keep the bo safe, he didn't tell him what to do yet. If he gets the instructions on the place, there's a better chance of him just doing what he's told instead of questioning the morality of this whole thing. Kyle pulled out his own earpiece while looking for the car, looking at the small device in confusion. Technology wasn't his strong suit unless it could fire bullets. As much as he wanted to throw it under a passing car, he tried a few buttons, hoping they'll work. “Stan, can you hear me?” He heard the boy almost yell in surprise, at least he already had it on too. The line was quiet for a while until Kyle spoke again. “Listen I don't have a lot of time. Are you in the hotel already?”

“Yeah. Mind telling me what the fuck I'm supposed to do now?”

Kyle sighed, his mind is all over the place. He wasn't used to his plans being this messy. “Bad news, plan A doesn't work. I have no chance to just get rid of him, he suspects something I think. I'll need you to take this into your own hands. I couldn't take him out.” The line was dead again. Kyle quickly hurried to sit in his car and start the engine, and pick up Craig who was waiting in front of the restaurant. “Listen I'll get back to you, try to sneak into like the laundry room or whatever. Find a hotel uniform or whatever, I'll need you to sneak around for a bit. Just trust me. Oh, and wear those leather gloves, you can't leave your prints anywhere. Go change and take the little pouch with you, I'll get back to you as soon as possible.” With that, he ended the call, and Craig just opened the doors, sitting in the passenger's seat. “Who were you talking to?” he snooped, giving Kyle a cheeky smile. They sped off, Kyle already knowing where to drop Craig off as it was his usual place to stay when he was in town. “Oh just a girl I'm seeing,” he lied, putting on that fake little smile again. People believed him more with this mask on, he liked it. 

The restaurant was fairly close to the hotel, Kyle didn't have much time to tell Stan what to do. He had maybe just enough to navigate him into Craig's room. The car stopped at a red light. Kyle noticed Craig's phone hasn't stopped lighting up since the dinner. As they were waiting for the light to turn green, Kyle's eyes tried to find the reflection of the phone once again. “Oh, who's been texting you this whole evening? You've barely paid any attention to me,” Kyle playfully said, looking into the back mirror for Craig's reaction. “You can come up to my room and I'll give you all the attention you want,” Craig laughed and earned a little punch to the shoulder. ”Just a little.... business deal.”

“This late at night?”

“Some businesses work better at night.”

 

 

Kyle bid his goodbyes to Craig and as soon as he stepped out and closed the door, Kyle drove called Stan, parking his car nearby. “You there?”

“Yeah.”

“He coming into the hotel now.”

“What?! Fuck am I supposed to do?”

“He said he'll stop for a drink at the bar, you've got some time. You changed already?”

“Yeah but all they had were plain white shirts.”

“Works out even better. Listen. I'll need you to get up into room 615. I'm guessing it's the sixth floor, shouldn't be a problem with the elevator.”

“Okay shit, yeah, and then what?” Stan was growing more and more frustrated. He stepped out of the laundry room, leather gloves on his hands, with just the little pouch with unknown content. His jacket was let somewhere in the bushed by the construction and God damn, is he going to miss that jacket. He headed outside, he knew the key was looking like he knew where he was going. He walked over to the elevators but as much as he pushed the button, none of them would come down. He looked over his shoulder and there he saw him approaching. A tall dark-haired man in a suit. Must be the guy Kyle just dropped off. “You'll need to get into his room,” Kyle navigated him but no further instructions. How was he supposed to get in? Stan pushed the button a few more times, nothing happened once again. He didn't understand and the man was getting closer. “They don't work,” he mumbled, hoping Kyle will hear him.

“What doesn't work?”

“The elevator. Shit, he's getting closer,” Stan whispered but luckily the man took a left into the hotel's bar. “What do you mean they don't work?”

“They just don't. Fuck, I think I need a hotel card.”

“Go get one then.”

“How? I can't code those things,” Stan's eyes ran around the lobby and rested on the fire exit. With determination, he quickly made his way there and took the steps by two, racing up on the sixth floor. “The hell is all that noise?”

“I'm taking the steps up.”

“Well hurry the hell up.”

As Stan raced with time on his way up, he stumbled upon a cleaning cart. It seemed like the lady will be here soon to collect it but he took his chances and searched it. Under a pile of bedding, he found the white card. Three more floors to go, he said to himself, running up as fast as he could. 

He searched for the room, the closest he found when he opened the fire-exit door was 635. Shit. Racing to the opposite side, his eyes wandered from one room to the next one and then he finally found it. 615. Now, the only thing left was hope that the card he stole was a universal one. 

“I'm in the room,” Stan whispered again, looking around the dark. He didn't want to light anything up, to touch anything he didn't need to. The only thing helping him at this point was the city as it lit up the room. “Great. There should be a whiskey on the table. Pour two glasses.”

“Two?”

“Yeah.”

“Why two?”

“He has a business deal going on.”

Stan was growing more and more nervous. The man could bust in any moment now and he didn't even have anything to defend himself with. “Open the little pouch.”

“What the hell is that?”

“The crystals?”

“No, I'm wondering about the fucking plastic bag. Yes, the crystals.”

“Okay listen, that's tetrodotoxin. I'll need you to pour that into one of the glasses.”

“How will I know he drinks from that one?” Stan heard the elevator stop, ding ding.  “Kyle I think he's coming.”

“Okay listen, pour that into the glass. Make sure the phone's disconnected.”

“Why?”

“Just do so!” Kyle yelled. He was getting nervous too. The least Stan could do was unplug it. He heard steps closer and closer to the room. “Kyle. what do I do? He... He's almost here. What about the business deal?”

“It's... It's not exactly a business deal.”

“The fuck is it then?”

“He ordered a fucking rentboy. I'm guessing he hasn't arrived yet.”

“A rentboy? Oh, so he’s just going to fucking stick it in me now?” Stan was growing more desperate and more frustrated by each second. There was no way he could run away now. Maybe say he’s just a hotel clerk? No, no name tag no nothing. This was a fight or give up situation and he’s not giving up just yet. “Are you going to explain anything to me?”

“When you get out.” Kyle was starting to feel like he owed Stan something. At least an explanation of this plan. For what he put him through. There was still a ray of light for Stan though if Kyle’s plan goes right. “If,”  Stan mumbled, looking at the door, waiting for it to open. It was like waiting for his end. “I think he’s here,” Stan informed Kyle, hearing someone struggle with opening the doors with the card. But they finally did. 

Stan didn’t realize the electricity won't work until Craig sticks his card into a little slit in the wall and the lights suddenly all lit up. “Oh God he’s here,” whispered Stan barely, with all the fear and desperation of the world.

“Shit, that’s bright,” said the man and turned the lights off immediately. His eyes then wandered to Stan and a smirk appeared on his face. “Oh, and who might you be? Fast service, I like that,” he laughed before stepping closer. Stan felt his stomach turning more and more with every step the man took. 

“Play it off,” he heard in the earpiece. “I have a plan.”

The man eyes him, from head to toe and appeared to like what he saw. “Let me freshen up a bit,” he said to Stan, turning around and disappearing in the bathroom. Stan was too terrified to say anything, turning his face at the city and leaning on the frame of the window for support. He hated being pushed into the corner like this, he felt so helpless. Why wasn’t Kyle coming to help him? Why did he leave him in this? As much as he didn’t like the man, he relied on him so much. “Listen,” said the voice in the earpiece one again. “You’ll be okay. Just listen to me.” And Kyle continues, hoping Stan would listen. “The thing you put in his drink, right? That’s the stuff you find in fugu fish, I made him order those. It can kill you if not prepared right. The dose I gave you is too much. You’ll be okay, it will almost surely be fatal. It’ll need 10 minutes to kick in, 20 to knock him out. Can you make it through the 10 minutes? Can you do that?”

“I hope.”

“Great. Of course you can. You’ll know it’s starting to work when he’ll notice there’s something wrong with his lips and tongue. In 10 minutes from that, his nervous system will stop working and he’ll eventually suffocate. In 10 minutes. I need you to make sure he doesn’t get to a phone. On your way out take the card out of the slit to turn off the electricity in the room. Put it on the table and report back when you’re done. Okay? Can you do that?” Stan was already trembling. He’ll have the blood of another’s person on his hands, he hated every second of this. And such an awful way to go. He looked at the city for some comfort but he heard the bathroom doors open and the man stepped out. He heard him coming closer and closer, he threw his jacket on the bed and approached Stan. He could feel his breath on his neck and it was such a terrible feeling. He felt so small and so alone at that moment. What if the poison doesn’t work? He turned around, facing the man that almost got them killed. Everything in him was screaming to push him away and spit in his face but he just heard Kyle’s voice in his head. “Play along,” he told himself. 

The man moved even closer, Stan felt him brush up lightly against him. Every touch was like thorns, every touch made him so sick. Just 20 minutes. 20 God damned minutes. “So,” the man started, bringing his hand up and grazing against Stan’s shoulder. His eyes never left the boy, studying his face or at least what he could see in the light. Stan told himself to play along. He can do this, he will do this. With all the energy he had left, he put on a confident face and looked the man in the eyes. “So?” he asked, the man startled at how cocky it sounded. From the look of his face, he liked it. 

“How would you like me to start?” he asked, pushing himself against the boy more and more. Stan was getting sick of it, his eyes traveling to the glasses. “How about we have a drink first?” he suggested, prying the man off of him and making his way to the tray with whiskey, handing the man a glass. He hoped to God it was the ones with that fish poison. The man seemed to like the idea, gladly taking the glass and sitting in an armchair nearby. Stan’s eyes looked for the clock, it said 1:32. 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes. Maybe engage him in some small talk. That he can do. But from the look of his face and his pants, he was pretty eager to get it on already. 

Stan counted every second that passed by. And he was grateful for every second that man was away from him. Tick, tock, tick, tock. 1:35. Tick, tock, tick, tock. 1:37. He wasn’t sure how long he’ll be able to keep him away. He grabbed a drink himself too, leaning against the table. Just a few more minutes.

“Come here,” the man gestured, waiting for the boy to make his way towards the armchair. Stan dreaded this moment but still obeyed and made his way there. Waiting for further instructions, he noticed the man’s phone sticking out of his pocket. Shit, he’ll have to get it somehow. He leaned over the man, lowering himself to his neck but essentially not doing anything. His hand got down to his knee, making its way up and accidentally knocking the phone out of the pocket. It was a good distraction. They man tried to pull him closer but Stan put a hand on his chest, stopping him. And again. “Oh, so we have a tease, huh?” the man laughed, taking advantage of the situation. “Well let’s see how you like it yourself. Sit on the bed.”

Stan didn’t like orders. But there was no other way out. The man hovered over him, his knee between Stan’s legs as he pushed him down. “I’ll make you beg,” he said before suddenly stopping. He touched his lips and from the look on his face, something was very wrong. Here it comes, Stan thought and the man excused himself and made his way into the bathroom. “Go lock the doors,” said Stan’s earpiece. The best he could do was put the armchair under the handle and wait.

Stan waited a few short moments before he heard curses coming from the bathroom, then some coughing and finally the man retching his guts out. His stomach turned, he was almost positive he was going to throw up on the floor too. He was about to push the armchair away and flee but Kyle told him to wait. The retching didn’t stop for a while. And then they knob started shaking frantically. Call for help, the man yelled weakly. He was shaking the handle and trying to open the door but he just couldn’t. Stan could hear him panicking more and more, his heart clenching and head spinning. And then it stopped. The man gave up. It’s been 15 minutes since he had drunk the poison. “Now go,” ordered Kyle. Stan moved everything back into place, took the card out and threw it on the bed, walking out. 

On his way, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He threw the cleaning lady’s card away somewhere in the hallway, going down the stairs again. But then it hit him. He killed another person. This realization made him stop and sit down. He couldn’t believe Kyle made him do it. He felt used. “Kyle, what was this whole act for?” he angrily asked. He was angry and confused, he wanted answers and he wanted them now. 

“It’ll look like natural causes. He ate fugu for dinner, got back, the fish was bad. They’ll find him tomorrow, find out where he was, what he ate, fish killed him. Case closed, no more investigation.”

“But what about you?” Kyle stayed silent. This was the first time someone has asked but what about him. It was strange. It was weird but it somehow felt nice. “They won’t be able to link me to it. Didn’t eat the fish, they can question me all they want. Now come on down, I’m outside.”

On his way down, Stan passed the reception with a young boy standing there. He was receiving the card to room 615. “Oh, actually, Mr. Tucker doesn’t feel too good. He sent me down to cancel your meeting,” he told the boy who looked happy to hear the news. He didn’t even question him, just turned around and left. “Also,” Stan turned at the receptionist, “Mr. Tucker doesn’t want to be bothered until tomorrow noon.” 


	7. Chapter 7

“You haven't been yourself these past days,” Kyle stated, lighting himself and Stan a cigarette. The cold night air washed over them. Little did they know they won't be so carefree in a little while. Not that their lives were easy-breezy now. Kyle leaned against the cold wall, looking over the familiar city, awaiting an answer. Instead of saying anything, the younger boy just pulled the blanket tighter over himself. “It's not every day I kill someone,” he mumbled, looking away from Kyle. His stomach was still turning, thinking about this whole mess. He finally had some time to clean up his thoughts and completely realize what has been happening. He found out he hated every second of it, even more than he thought. Whatever hope he had that he'd get used to this was long gone. Sure, he was excited when he hit that target spot on a few weeks back. And he was excited that he was getting better. Sure, why not. But he didn't realize how much he was pushing his real feelings away, how much humanity he has lost. It all hit him like a truck when he heard the man die, slowly and probably painfully, in a stupid hotel bathroom. Those feelings he felt back then, the sight and the sound and the smell, it's going to be something that will haunt him forever. What has happened to him? How could he just kill two people and now sit here and smoke, wrapped up in a blue blanket, as if nothing has happened? He didn't understand this world. He despised it and wanted to leave, go back to his old friends and college classes and tests and... And what? He was so lost in this new world, he already forgot what his old life was like. His chest felt like it was in thorns when he realized that there is absolutely no way he's getting out of this. This is his life now. Kill to survive. But he wondered whether he had the will to survive.

Kyle sighed. It's been some time that they've been together probably every day. And he still didn't understand his feelings. For him, this was weak, this was childish, this was foolish. He put so much effort and patience into this boy. He missed out on so much work, so many offers. And when everything was kind of turning out well, he has to come up with this bullshit. That he's not made for the job. No news here, Kyle thought. But he had no other option, other than being shot dead and dumped into a river. But he brought this on himself. If he hadn't have saved him in that rotten old warehouse, Stan would've been long gone, he would've been paid and things wouldn't be as bad as they are now. If only. But his selfish and arrogant and egoistic self tried to make the most out of someone's life-or-death situation and look where it got him. On the hit list of the biggest organization in the country and an emotional wreck on his shoulder. Great and amazing. “Come on, we've got work to do,” Kyle said, lighting a piece of paper that he was studying on fire.

 

 

The road has been turning left and right, right and left for a good hour now. Stan had no idea where the car was heading. It was becoming pretty boring, they were driving through a never-ending forest. As boring as it was though, his mind was never once peaceful. Where were they even going? Why was he in the car too? From what he could tell, Kyle's got a new target. It came quick and unexpected, he couldn't quite figure out why they were out and on the road in a matter of minutes. What was so important? Ever since he has been with Kyle, he hasn't had a real target. The ones that were taken down, they were for his own good. What was even more unsettling was that he pushed a gun into Stan's hands, no questions whether he was ready or not. In this state, he couldn't even load the gun, much less shoot it as someone who was aiming at him or whatever. He just didn't feel comfortable holding that damned thing. Without thinking, to calm himself down, his fingers started tapping against the window. He never knew where it came from. He learned it as a kid, God knows where. It has stayed with him ever since, it was something that helped him take his mind off of things. Tap. Pause. Tap, tap. Tap, tap tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap. And again. Whatever that meant, probably nothing. It was getting on Kyle's nerves apparently as his eyes traveled to the source of the sound more than once. “Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Making all that noise.” All that noise. As if it was truly distracting. Or maybe it was, Stan never realized. “What kind of melody is that even?” Stan just shrugged his shoulders. All this overthinking just brought his mood even lower. He didn't want to talk to the older man, he didn't want to look at him, he didn't want to listen to him. He just wanted everything to be over, once and for all.

The car suddenly stopped. Stan looked around but couldn't see a thing, it was pitch black. All he heard was Kyle pulling his keys out of the car. “Don’t forget your gun,” he whispered before closing the door, making Stan’s heart beat a little more faster than before. Don’t forget your gun.

Stan could hear the rocks scratching the ground under his shoes. Though he didn’t really understand why Kyle wasn’t trying to be quiet, he just went with the plan. What did he know, anyway? He just held his gun close even though it disgusted him and followed the older man, not wanting to lose him in this black hole. Suddenly, he heard him stop and felt Kyle’s hand on his chest, stopping him too. “What is our plan?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle whispered before crouching a little bit and continuing forward. Before he knew it, they came to a wall. What the hell did Kyle mean by 'I don't know'. For fuck's sake, isn’t he the one who's supposed to keep them alive? Wasn't he supposed to be the one with the plan? Or was he just messing with Stan? He didn't want to believe that the older man had no plan. Nope, impossible. How can you be a hitman with years of experience and say you have no plan? This seems like suicide.

“Stay quiet,” Kyle barely whispered, pushing Stan against the wall. 

“I'm not even saying anything!”

“You're being. Too loud.”

“Well, how am I supposed to walk without making any noise?” Kyle sighed. This probably won't work the way he imagined with Stan by his side. Why can't he just be a little more competent? Is that too much to ask for? Kyle looked around the dark lot, his eyes trying to find one spot he could kick off of. But he'll probably have to leave Stan here all by himself. 

He had pretty good knowledge of this lot. He hasn't been here once but has seen the blueprints and that was enough. With this many years of experience, it was more than enough. What made him a little more nervous was that he didn't know how many guards were around, how many snipers and security there were. He wasn't even sure if the target he has been looking for was in the building. But, if he wanted to lure out the big fish, this was a risk that had to be taken. He didn't even consider that this was too dangerous of a mission for such an unimportant person. But he had his plan and he never liked straying away from his plans. As soon as he got the phone call from a close associate, he knew what to do. The location of one of his old coworkers got leaked and he took the first opportunity to take him out. Sure, killing a member of a family that is after his head doesn't seem like the brightest idea but he has to lure out the family heads somehow. They'll know who did it. They knew Kyle's style very well. 

It would be easier if he didn't bring Stan with him. But he has to learn how to swim with the big fish. He doesn't wish him any harm, however, he doesn't care what will happen to him after he's done either. He did drag him into this, yes, but he has to remind himself why he dragged him into this mess. Because he himself wants to get out, he wants his ticket out of hell and he wants it now and that ticket for him is Stan. He has to remind himself because he keeps forgetting and is starting to feel a little bit of... guilt?

 

Kyle reached the corner, listening closely to see if he hears someone. If it wasn’t for his training, he would've said that there's no one there. But his skilled ears heard the few stones that moved under someone's feet as they guarded the area. No, he heard more. There are more people possibly. He wanted to get in unnoticed, but is that even possible in this situation? Of course, it is, he just has to think this through a little bit. A shadow moved in front of him and he immediately took the chance. Grabbing a rock by his feet, he threw it above the person's head so it hit the wall. The moment he saw the person look up in the dark, he ran out of his cover, grabbing the person's neck and snapping it to the side with so much force. Kyle was trained to take advantage of situations like these. Had the person's head not been up or down, he wouldn't have been able to snap his neck so easily. But the years of training and combat prepared him, he was making these decisions quickly and without thinking, it was almost like a reflex for him. He heard a faint snap as the unaware person fell lifelessly into his arms, his body still warm but unmoving. Kyle carefully laid him on the ground, not making much noise but he was sure the other person must've heard the snap of the person's neck. He had to act quickly before the second person saw him or got the chance to notify more security guards. Two people weren't that much of a problem, ten were.

Kyle wiped his gloves on his pants, quietly scooting himself over to the wall and looked for the second guard. He pulled out a piece of wire out of his jacket, spinning the ends around his hands and waiting for the perfect moment to surprise the second attacker. For all he knew, there could've been more. But it was important he took them out one by one, without notifying anyone for as long as he could. This was his job after all. Being quiet like a ghost, deadly like life itself. He felt the person coming closer, a sense he had trained and calibrated for years. Without any hesitation, the wire was wrapped around the second man's neck, forming an X in the back where Kyle had crossed the wire, digging it deeper into the man's neck. He felt the wire breaking the skin immediately as he pulled back and without any hesitation, he kneeled the man's back, making his bend and the wire digging deeper. He never knew what was sooner to break, the victim's neck or back. It didn't matter however as the man's desperate attempts of saving himself suddenly stopped, life leaving yet another body. Two bodies were lying on the gritty rocks, security cameras on but lights were off the whole time. He wondered why but they probably just didn't think someone would be breaking in at this time and day. ‘Shit, Stan,’ Kyle remembered before almost entering the warehouse. Had it not been for the feeling of guilt creeping up on his again, he would've forgotten and left him there. 

“What in the hell happened,” Stan whispered as he saw Kyle, a little bit of moonlight that crept in from between the clouds illuminating the older man's face. All Stan saw was that ruthless empty look he had the first day, this time with blood on his face and gloves. Stan was coldly reminded of all those things he felt when he was kneeling in a similar warehouse, blindfolded and terrified. And suddenly, he wanted to turn around and leave. The look on Kyle's face was enough to make him want to do that. He didn't care what would happen. But the killer look on Kyle's face also terrified him to the point where he couldn't even move. He hated it, he hated seeing how much power the man had over him. “I was cleaning the path for you.”

Stan tried to look around the warehouse but his eyes just couldn't recognize a single shape in that much dark. He was hoping some moonlight would sneak in, allowing him to see at least one step ahead. But the darkness didn't seem to be a problem for Kyle. From what the older man had told him, there were seven people here in total. That wasn't many, but enough. It was his first day out, after all. But what he couldn't get out of Kyle was the reason why there were here. He seemed so reluctant to tell him that it worried Stan that much more. If Kyle seemed cold or ignorant, he could understand that. But he looked almost remorseful and sorry, it was so strange and scary, he hated it. Both of them hated it. 

Two people down, that means there's just five more roaming around. It made Stan afraid to even move, wondering if they could hear or see his every move. His head felt light and his mouth was dry, he was gripping the gun for his dear life, as much as the machine disgusted him. He was relying on it with his whole life. Such a strange feeling. Kyle's shoulder brushed against his, making him jump but when he realized it was him, a wave of calmness spread over him. It was nice knowing he had someone to rely on in this situation and that Kyle didn't just send him out into a battlefield but was still by his side. It was nice.

The building wasn't big. That they could see. Upon entering, Kyle immediately noticed stairs going up and just one more room on the bottom floor, apart from the open space that was on his right. “You check the room, I'll check the upper floor,” Kyle whispered but Stan wasn't so keen on the idea. Roaming around alone? Not his cup of tea. But he had no chance to say anything as Kyle was already sneaking up the stairs. The guys inside were just doing their jobs, not aware someone was walking around their lot. Stan wanted to move and do something useful, oh how he wanted to help. But he couldn't lift his feet off of the ground. The fear has paralyzed him to the point where he was barely breathing, There was absolutely no way he would be able to explore the bottom floor. How did Kyle even come up with the idea of letting him go on his own? 

A loud sudden bang brought Stan out of his daydreams. A man fell over the upper ceiling, crashing into the ground. He was in such shock, no sound left his throat as much as he wanted to scream. He looked at the stiff body as it laid on the ground, the moonlight appearing once again. He looked up, seeing Kyle standing near the railing and looking down at the body, telling him to check if he's dead. That's when it hit Stan. He has to do something. These people are all around this building, lord knows when they might jump out. If he wants to get out, he has to do something. Anything. He has the gun, he can help somehow, or at least keep himself alive. He looked around and saw a little bit of light coming out from between the wooden floorboards. It didn't take him long to figure out someone's down there, he heard noises and sounds. A big stash of wooden boxes grabbed his attention. Maybe he could drag them over the basement exit if he has enough strength. 

He dragged them across the floor, stopping just inches from the exit. Is that right? Is this really what he wants to do? Trap a few people down in a basement? But his eyes landed upon the crashed down body that fell to the ground minutes ago. It's not something he wants to do, it's something he has to do. With that, he tried to keep his head clear and not think about his feelings too much and pushed the boxes over the cover. With all his might, he stepped away and tried not to think about the people trapped in the basement. He jumped in fright, from the corner of his eye he saw the body move. But he just brushed it off as his imagination playing tricks on him. His head was spinning again and he didn't know how much longer he could stay in this place. He hoped Kyle would be done soon too. He wondered where he was anyway but heard a gunshot coming from up the stairs.

“You might be dying but I still have the chance to make the time you have left living hell,” Kyle hissed, looking at the man sitting down in front of him, grabbing his stomach. The older man came over, kicking his chest, forcing him to lie down and cry out in pain. Of course, he wasn't going to tell. No way in hell. Kyle saw that he wasn't getting a word out of him, not yet. Maybe more pain will help, he spat out, stepping on the man's shoulder and stomping it into the ground. He was already screaming in agony and the words Kyle wanted to hear were just a few stomps away. The man wasn't saying anything, staring right back at Kyle with his eyes so full of hatred. But he wasn't giving up, fixed on getting the information he needs before the man bleeds to death. He stepped on his shoulder a little harder, just until he heard a crack and the arm bending in an unusual way. That was just enough to make the man yell out the location Kyle was waiting for, that was all he needed. He was useless as a rock now, Kyle pointed his gun at him once again and fired without thinking and with no remorse. That's just how he was. Some people would feel as little as excitement or an adrenaline rush or whatever. He felt nothing. This was nothing. Killing was nothing. 

He was getting ready to leave but he had to collect Stan by the door. Obviously, he was shaken by what he saw but honestly, what wasn't he shaken by. By now, he should be used to a little bit of harshness and a little bit of blood. Kyle grabbed him by his arm firmly, dragging him down the stairs with him. He didn't even bother to tell him what he found out or what now. He just dragged him around like an accessory. “Do you mind telling me wher-” Stan couldn't even finish the sentence before he was caught off guard by a loud bang before Kyle fell to the ground. He stumbled to the side, watching Kyle fall to the ground. The whole thing was moving in slow motion for him, his eyes barely catching the attacker. But when he saw him, he was almost on the ground. The man who he was supposed to check whether is dead or not was now standing over Kyle with a gun in his hand, aiming it at his head while the older man just stared at him blankly. Or... did he? Stan wanted to believe his eyes were blank and fearless but what he saw was fear and despair, for the first time. He finally saw some kind of strong emotion. Kyle's gun was thrown far by his side, too far to reach it. He was obviously as startled as Stan, the hit he took momentarily stopping him from thinking clearly. Stan's mind was in the clouds, despite him trying so hard to think clearly. It took him only one look at the man's face and the gun in his hands and he knew he had to do something quick otherwise he'd be all alone in this mess. But he couldn't move. Fear made his stiff once again, nothing in the world could force him to act. He stared at the man, terrified, watched him load the gun. What felt like hours was only seconds. The gun was pointing at Kyle's head again before Stan took the initiative and threw himself at the man, both of them flying out of the nearby window.

 

 

Kyle was still shaking from what happened. His mind wasn't in the right place, how did he allow himself to let something like this happen? He knew he should've shot the man, just to be sure. Why was he even leaving this to Stan? He was obviously so piss-scared and incompe- He isn’t incompetent and Kyle was reminded of that by looking at Stan's bloody back that was in front of him. He forgot what he was even doing. The moment they both flew out of the window, Kyle raced outside to look for him, fear washing over his mind. But he found him sitting on the guy, hearing a shot go by and Stan rolling over from the dead body. The least he could do was help him get up and get him into the car.

Now, Stan was sitting in front of him in an empty bathtub. Mindlessly, Stan’s fingers were tapping against the bath tub. Kyle could barely look at his bruised back, even though he still had his shirt on. He saw the blood and the glass sticking out, he knew Stan could barely move. But the younger boy knew going to a doctor was off the table. He was dead, after all. His mind was getting lost again, trying to distract himself from experiencing the pain. He was surprised by the flow of hot water that washed over him. Kyle had turned on the faucet and left the room. He was wondering whether he realized that he couldn't even turn it off. But before too long he was back, with what seemed like a doctor's equipment, some disinfectant and whatever else. Stan didn't care at that point and time.

“Please relax,” Kyle said quietly, running his hand over Stan's shoulder and looking at the damage that has been done. His tone seemed calm and empty like always but there was a little bit to it that Stan didn't understand, he couldn't quite catch it. It was some kind of emotion he had never seen Kyle show. It was strange but something about it made him seem a little more human. Maybe it was true, maybe it was the pain talking. Because he couldn't take his shirt off, Kyle had no other choice but to cut the whole shirt in half, somehow pulling it over the glass pieces and unsticking it from Stan's back where the blood has dried down already. He could see him flinch with every little move, it almost made him want to stop but he knew he had to help him somehow. Once the shirt was off, he grabbed a clean cloth and dampened it with warm water, trying to clean up the wounds up a little bit. It did work but he could see how much it hurt Stan. He tapped around the edges of the wounds, seeing where the glass was sticking in. Some wounds were still bleeding, trickling down his back and dripping into the water. Kyle mindlessly did his work, his mind traveling to the point where Stan saved his life. He hated it, both the fact he had to have his life saved and the fact he couldn't force his mind to focus on the job he was doing right now. He grabbed a tiny pair of forceps he had disinfected. “Do you trust me?” he asked Stan silently, lightly touching his arm. Stan wanted to say no. He wanted to but couldn't. He despised the fact that Kyle's touch, as cold as it felt, was the most human thing he had felt in a while and he didn't want him to let go. He didn't care who it came from, he needed closure and comfort. And if this was the only form he's getting it from, so be it. Just don't make it stop.

Stan nodded but could just guess what was going to happen. He heard Kyle sigh and rub his shoulders. Goosebumps ran over his back, he was so conflicted about what he was feeling. “Be strong, okay?” Kyle said calmly but detachedly before grabbing the biggest piece of glass and slowly pulling it out of Stan's back. He could see the younger man gripping the sides of the bathtub, holding in whatever noise he wanted to make. All of his cried were muffled and hid inside, only putting on a brave face. He refused to look weak once again in front of Kyle. He just refused. The piece was out but the wound stayed open. The next thing Stan felt was a needle-like poke. He flinched, confused. “Calm down, I know what I'm doing,” Kyle shushed him before pulling the needle through his skin along with a thread, once again and then a few more times before he closed the open wound all the way. He heard Stan groan in pain when he was pulling out another shard, placing it on the sink and cleaning the would. Luckily, only one more needed to be closed like that. 

Stan was surprised by how human Kyle was for a change. The way he tried to soothe him and get him through this whole thing was admirable and to be honest, felt very nice. It was the nicest thing he had felt in a while, finally, he was being treated like a person. Was this all it took? Saving his life? Or was he just feeling guilty because of what Stan had done? He didn't even care. He just wanted someone to console him, to put a stop on this hurting. With each shard Kyle had pulled out, it hurt a little less but he still felt blood dripping down his back into the water. He needed someone at the moment but no one was there. It felt awful, but he was getting used to it. 

“I'm sorry,” Kyle softly whispered to Stan before finishing off the last cut. The older man stood up and sat on the edge of the tub in front of Stan so he could see into his face. “I'm sorry, this shouldn't have happened,” he whispered, almost ashamed of what he was saying, his hand resting on Stan's shoulder. Stan would've guessed that it was so cold and formal and unemotional as always if he hadn't seen his eyes at that very moment. They were so expressive and it was something Kyle couldn't hide. He didn't want to hide it in front of Stan. It was the most human he had seen him. He saw the misery and worry. Stan couldn't help but touch Kyle's hand that was on his shoulder, grabbing it to remind himself of what it felt like, what it was like to be close to another person. All this, it felt strange, it felt unnatural. It didn't feel like it was coming from Kyle himself but Stan was grateful. He was grateful Kyle let him see this and allowed him to get this close. He never wanted it to end but saw it vanish from his eyes as soon as he stood up and left.


	8. Chapter 8

“Jesus Christ, Kyle, that smells amazing,” Stan said as he slowly made his way into the kitchen. He would love for this scent to be the thing that woke him up but sadly, it was the fresh stitches on his back.

“Yeah, I know,” Kyle said casually, not even looking up from the pan. His mind was in a whole another place, away from his job and his responsibilities, this was his peace of mind. Stan noticed that his face suddenly didn’t look as rough and tough as it usually does. No, there was something in his face that brought him peace and happiness. If you looked close enough, you could see the spark in his eye and maybe... maybe even a little smile.

Stan stepped closer, taking a look over Kyle’s shoulder. Even he was surprised that he let him get this friendly and step this close. “What even are you doing?”

“Roasting coffee beans.”

“Boy, look at them ugly as fuck bitter beans, what the hell are they even.”

Stan saw that Kyle turned off the heat with a sigh, gripping the wooden spoon, that he was mixing the beans with, in his hand. “Stan, what was that?”

“I- I was roasting the beans,” he said and had to look away, just because he couldn’t keep his giggles quiet. He could literally feel Kyle rolling his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose just like he does when something so stupid occurs, just making his mind stop.

When he could finally keep a serious face, he looked back and saw Kyle trying to hide a little smile that was creeping up on his face. “Shut up, that was dumb,” he said, still trying to fight even the smallest smile.

Stan couldn’t even remember the last time he had such a nice morning.

“You mean funny?”

“Stupid.”

“Hilarious.”

“Silly.”

“Comedic.”

“Foolish.”

“Humorous.” Kyle already knew there was no point to this so he let Stan win this little argument, changing the subject promptly. “How did you sleep?”

Stan was caught off guard, Kyle never asked. He seemed particularly worried today, or was he just feeling sorry for putting the younger boy in this position?

Stan sighed looking over at his back. He saw the little splotches of blood that seeped through his shirt, the pain from a ripped wound waking him up. “Pretty well, you’ve got a great bed,” he chuckled, brushing off the wounds on his back like they were nothing.

“I mean I do appreciate finer things.”

“Yeah, I can see Mr. Optimus Prime here,” the younger man giggled, patting the silver coffee machine that proudly occupies most of the kitchen counter. Why did Kyle even need a coffee machine this big? Does he offer a free coffee with every clean kill?

“I did not pay 700 bucks for that machine for it to be called Optimus Prime.”

“Excuse me, you paid how much?” Kyle just seemed to ignore the question. Of course, he did, he likes good coffee.

But a concerned look didn’t leave Kyle’s face. His eyes were planted on Stan’s white shirt and Stan could tell that Kyle almost felt sorry. Almost. He felt bad enough that Stan had to do it but a part of him was reminding him that this is what this work is about. But he shouldn’t have gotten hurt. Not trying to protect Kyle, anyway. He felt ashamed that he needed someone’s help, he hated that now he basically owed Stan something. He worked alone, he killed alone, he fought alone. And now suddenly he needed someone’s help.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Take off your shirt.”

“God damn, at least take me to dinner first.”

“Jesus Christ, I just want to clean your wounds,” Kyle groaned, reaching for the cleaning alcohol from last night.

“Well, good luck trying to unstick my shirt from the rest of me.” The wounds dried already, Kyle could see now. With hesitation, he grabbed a nearby cloth and put it under water, tapping Stan's wounds through the shirt gently, trying to ignore the hisses and groans that left Stan. Did it really hurt that much? Kyle doubted it, looking at his own scars that were scattered across his own arms. Not only his arms though, there were many more but these were the ones he could see all day, every day. That's why people seldom saw him with his arms uncovered. Bullets, fights, shrapnel, you name it. He's been through a lot. But it's not even close to an end and he knows it.

 

“Where are you leaving?” Stan stopped Kyle in his tracks, just as he was putting on his coat. He had just finished dealing with his wounds, putting his shirt back on which took way more time than it should.

“I have a job to do.” Stan's eyes quickly traveled to the big black case that was leaning by the door. He could feel Kyle's cold stare at him as his eyes lingered on the instrument for a little too long. Stan couldn't help but wonder what a gun that size looked like. As much as he was still repulsed by them, a sick kind of curiosity settled in his brain.

“Cool, where are we going?”

“You're not going anywhere.” That stopped the younger boy in his tracks. For a while, he forgot about the bruises on his back and how beaten up he felt. He forgot he had to hold on to door frames for support, he was ready to go and learn, go and jump into action. His heart told him that it was wrong and unethical, his brain tried to convince him that ethical has no place in this situation, if he wanted to save his life he'd have to do ugly things and find peace with them later.

“You can't leave me here.”

“You're hurt, Stan.” He felt his heart beat a little faster and blood rush to his face. He almost couldn't control his anger, why was Kyle treating him like a child? He was only hurt and unable to work whenever it was convenient for the older man and he had just enough of it.

“I saved your life, you owe me one.” That seemed to work on Kyle. Stan knew this was a sensitive subject for him and he shouldn't have brought that up but sometimes you have to play dirty. By the look on the older man's face, he knew he crossed the line big time. But he also knew he was right. Kyle left the room, Stan was wondering if the whole thing was off. But he returned with a pile of clothes, pushed them into Stan's arms and headed outside with his instrument.

 

“Is this some sort of a delivery boy fantasy you have or what?” Stan groaned, buttoning up the ugliest brown shirt he had ever seen. The rest of his clothes were thrown on the backseat of Kyle's car, he had to get dressed in a hurry, not knowing what the plan even is. If only Kyle didn't keep so many secrets about these jobs. Before he knew it, the car was parked in a secluded parking lot by the woods and they were rushing their way into a strange car that stopped a few steps by them. Hurrying with his regular clothes rumpled in his hands, Stan followed Kyle's suit and stepped into the car without saying a word. There seemed to be no end to the car ride and with each turn they took and every city they passed, Stan was getting more and more worried, His fingers started tapping against the backseat door, Kyle noticing it immediately. He was about to slap the younger boy's hand slightly and tell him to stop but he was what a nervous wreck he was. Why was he forcing himself into these missions?

It wasn't even mid-day when they arrived but it felt like it was the next day already. They left the car swiftly, again, without saying a word but with a package in Stan's hands. When he realized he was in a strange town, he immediately regretted the decision of pushing himself into Kyle's plans. He tried to sneak a peek into his papers that he was studying the whole road but couldn't make out a single word, a single move. All he recognized was a picture of a man he saw somewhere and a map or a plan, whatever that was, with red ink scribbles all over it. The fresh air didn't help, his knees were weak as ever and his head just wasn't in the right place. He didn't even notice they were walking somewhere away, he just found himself in the middle of an unknown city, standing under enormous glass skyscrapers. His head spun as he looked up, gripping the strange package in his sweaty hands.

 

What he had to do wasn't difficult. It really wasn't. But something in his head forbade him from taking a step into the building and finishing the task. His feet were glued to the ground and he was still gripping the brown box tightly. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could take the god-awful delivery boy uniform off. As much as Kyle tried to convince him it's a no-risk job, it didn't work, not one bit. His mouth was dry and he couldn't even think of a way to convince the receptionist to let him go up into her boss' office. He lit a cigarette, just so he wouldn't look weird standing around in front of a random company building. His heart dropped when he saw Kyle leave and disappear behind an old building across the offices. It was so strange to see him running around with a black guitar case but he had to do what was needed. Whatever. He was the main man in this operation and he better have all this planned out.

One, two, three. Nothing. Stan couldn't force himself to make the first step. Again. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two, three, step. He was dreadfully making his way into the company, pushing the cold glass door and stepping towards the reception. If things went south, he didn't even have a weapon to defend himself. Kyle wasn't even in the building with him. ‘Have to go set up my equipment,’ great, just great. What could even go south? He was just delivering a package. That's all, that's all. One, two, three, he was standing in front of the receptionist. “Can I help you?” he heard her say and look up with a tired look. Work your charms, work your charms, he told himself. “I have a delivery for Mr. Black.” He tried to put on the sweetest smile, he had to process her before he goes up. Praying to heavens that he'll be able to charm her into getting his way, he played into all of his strengths which was hard looking like that.

 

He needed a shot or a pill to calm down. Stan raced up the skyscraper, taking steps by two to reach the top as soon as possible. He didn't meet a single soul on his way up, opening the roof door only to see Kyle spread out on the ground with his rifle laid in front of him in all its greatness. The sight stopped Stan in his tracks, he had never seen Kyle actually doing his work like this, the sheer size of the gun startling him. Everything around the older man seemed to be placed perfectly in its spot, Stan debated taking a step, worried he might move a single piece of dust. It was nothing like in the movies. He couldn't even begin to imagine all the precautions and planning that went into a job like this but, after all, Kyle was a professional and made it seem so natural. Stan's eyes travelled to the gun once again, taking in every detail he could see. The more he looked at it, the more he was afraid of what he had gotten himself into.

“Don't touch anything,” he heard Kyle quietly say, not moving an inch from his spot. Stan cautiously closed the door, just now noticing how windy it was up on the roof. He took small steps towards his partner, sitting on the could concrete roof beside him. He felt the older guy gaze upon him, waiting for him to say something but Stan was still processing this whole thing. “Did you get the package up to him?”

“Mhm.”

“No problems?”

“The receptionist was being kind of difficult.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, but I talked her into letting me in.”

“Used your God-given charisma I imagine,” Kyle chuckled, sitting up from the spot he so carefully prepared, brushing off small rocks and duct from his oversuit. It made him hard to see and was also incredibly easy to take off and get rid of. As much as he'd like to go to work looking chic and clean, that wasn't what the future held for him. But there was no answer to his question, Stan's eyes were still focused on the skyscraper in front of them. He handed him binoculars so he could see the target too, ‘second to last floor, third window from the right’ he said, laying down to position his rifle perfectly once again.

“Managed to crank up the heat?”

“Mhm. Also managed to jam the buttons in, I don't think they'll be cooling off soon. Should have the windows open by now.”

“Great great. Oh, shit, quiet, here he com- Almost forgot, put these on,” Kyle mumbled, pulling out some tiny strange-looking headphones from his pockets. Stan noticed he already had them on, probably to not go deaf as a result of his profession. With no questions asked, he did as Kyle ordered him to.

“Shh, shh,” he heard Kyle whisper, not daring to move a finger. From the corner of his eye, he saw all life vanish from Kyle's face, only leaving behind a cold, soulless look as his piercing eyes followed the target through the scope. His finger rested on the trigger peacefully, waiting for the perfect moment to pull and finish the job. It was excruciating twenty seconds before Stan heard the shot and it felt like the bullet went straight through his heart. It almost stopped for a second, the muffler taking in some of the bang but it was still louder than he could've imagined, the bullet flying through the air almost unnoticed until it hit its target perfectly, no doubt about it. It got nestled in the head of the officer, immediately taking him out. Kyle didn't need to see the aftermath, with a beatific look on his face he sat up straight, letting out a breath that he has held in the whole time. Another job well done.

Stan couldn't put the binoculars down though, watching the bloody continuation of Kyle's actions. He saw the man's brains on the wall, he saw his body fall down, he saw his secretary run in, yell, fall on her knees, he saw people rushing into the office to see what had happened, people calling, presumably police or an ambulance, he saw all the consequences he feared so much. That was until Kyle tore the binoculars away from him and saw his terrified look. He couldn't tear his eyes away, he couldn't even move. He was so starstruck.

In a few quick moves, Kyle slipped the overcoat off of him, throwing Stan's regular clothes back at him. “Quick, we need to disappear.”

After that, Stan didn't even notice what went on. He just followed what Kyle told him to do, not giving it a second thought. Before he knew it, they were back in that same shady dark car, he didn't even notice Kyle burning evidence or talking to a few residents of the building he was shooting from. Tap, tap, tap, that's where his mind went. As they were stepping out, the driver handed him a heavy bag, Stan only guessed what was inside.

 

“What's your poison?” Kyle asked the younger boy, standing by the cabinet with liquors, leaning over it as he waited for him to answer. But he didn't, instead looked at him with those same scared eyes he always did, sitting on the couch with a big blanket over him. Even though he told him he wasn't feeling well, Kyle had no intentions of leaving him alone this evening, at least that's what the little voice in his head told him to do. To cheer the boy up a little. He gave him one more look and Stan got the message this time.

“Vodka martini, shaken not stirred?”

“Mr. Bond, I'm a hitman, not a bartender,” Kyle smiled a little to himself, pulling out a bottle from the back of the cabinet. Whatever it was, it looked fancy to Stan and it reminded him of college partied filled with cheap beer and Jäger. He missed it. He felt a little ashamed of the fact that he didn't think of his friends as much now. He wasn't forgetting them, his mind was just somewhere else now. He was somewhere else now. But the pain crept up on him, pinching his heart a little.

Kyle came back from the kitchen with a pair of crystal glasses filled with chilled rocks, setting them on the table, filling them a little. He spread himself on the seat next to Stan without a work, grabbing the glass and spinning the liquid in it a bit. What now? A wave of uncomfortable silence spread around the room, neither of them knew how to warm up the atmosphere a little bit. “So... what's this about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I mean this doesn't seem like you.”

“Just thought you needed a little pick me up, right?”

Stan looked at the older man from behind his glass with a cheeky look. “Are you trying to comfort me?” he teased him before taking a sip and enjoying his confused look.

“Just thought a little mental detox was in place,” he assured him, taking a long sip from glass. He didn’t drink often but when he did, he preferred to enjoy every second of it. From the sweet taste that first hit his tongue to the fine burn that flashed his whole throat. It went down so smooth, a great reward for a job well done.

He glanced at the boy sitting on the opposite side of the couch, still hidden in his shell. When he looked into his eyes, he saw the fear. He saw the confusion and little by little, he was learning how to understand it. He wanted to help him, he wanted to dig him out of the mess he got him into. But Kyle didn’t know how. Nobody helped him throughout the years. He only knew how to help himself, how to dig your way out, claw yourself out. He wanted to say something, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to do something, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he was trying to comfort him, after all.

“Can I ask you something?” Kyle snapped back from him thoughts, a little startled by the question. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to open up, he still wanted to keep up the wall. as thick and high as he could. But he knew, somewhere in the back of his head that Stan was chipping that wall, piece by piece.

“You can try.”

That didn’t satisfy the young boy. He felt like this was the opportunity to look deeper into the mystery that was sitting in front of him. The more time he spent with him, the more he wanted to hear about all the moments that created the person that saved him from death so many times. Stan hoped to dig some info from him tonight but after his response that was as cold as usual, he wasn’t so sure. After a long sigh, he took a long sip from his glass, hoping to gain confidence to actually speak to Kyle. Even after all this time, there was still a lot of distance and respect, maybe even a little fright between them. It was so strange. “Why... Why are you doing this?”

Stan heard Kyle chuckle, he tipped his head back and laid it on the back of the couch. “What do you mean?”

“This... job? I mean the killings and all- All that.”

There was a moment of silence. Kyle didn’t know how much he could say right now.

“To survive.”

“Care to see explain?” Stan tried his luck, suddenly feeling very hot under the blanket he was buried under. Maybe it was the drink but that didn’t stop him from finishing it all at once, needing all the liquid courage if he were to continue this conversation.

“Oh, you’re going to have to get me a hell of a lot drunker to start talking about that.” And even then, he wasn’t sure whether he could tell the boy about everything. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He felt like an alien, not being able to put all of it in words. The younger boy seemed to take that as a challenge, immediately reaching for the bottle and pouring some whiskey into their glasses. “But tell me about yourself. What did you do before I... dragged you into this?”

It was unusual for Kyle to care about something like that. And did he really care? Or was he just looking for a way to keep the talk going. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, there was a part that wanted to know who Stan was before. What was he like, what did he study, what were his plans? How did he change? “I was in college.”

“That’s a pretty broad term. What did you study?”

“Oh God, you’re going to think I’m so lame.”

“Come on, I never went to college. How worse can it be than that?”

“I was... um, I was doing business management,” Stan finally got out of himself, hiding his face in his palms, a little embarrassed.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It sounds so boring! I could be like... studying medieval art or like computer science,” he sighed, turning his attention back to his glass. The rocks got warmer and didn’t cool down the liquid as they were supposed to but neither of them really cared at this point. It was only the first round that really counted.

“That’s not half bad. So you wanted to be one of those suited up guys in a tall building, huh?”

“I’m not sure if it was for me. I could’ve been one of your targets!”

“Oh shit, really,” Kyle laughed, feeling as the room was warmer and more welcoming. He had to admit, this was the most easy-going talk he had in a long time. It wasn’t every day he could just chat with someone, not being that careful about every word he said. Maybe... maybe he liked it a little. “Well I guess you’re welcome then. But there’s like such a small chance we’d meet anyway.”

“How so?”

“Did you check the bag the man gave you?”

“Well I don’t go around digging in other people’s shit usually,” Stan answered, throwing the blanket somewhere away to go and have a look. He picked the duffel bag up, setting it on the coffee table while Kyle filled their glasses a third time. Stan didn’t seem to protest anyway.

“Holy hell!” Kyle heard Stan exclaim after he unzipped the bag, digging through the bands of bills stacked on top of each other. “For one kill?”

“I’m expensive,” Kyle couldn’t hide the little smirk on his face, feeling a little enjoyment from Stan’s shocked face. “It takes two weeks to plan out and get together, you think I’d ask for any less, taking out such a high figure?”

Stan tried to imagine what went into two weeks of planning. He never imagined it could take so long to take out one CEO. But he could understand, traveling into another city, getting the equipment, getting to know your target, all that jazz. It was a little terrifying, knowing that the man had someone observe him for two weeks and had no idea. That’s so much work for one kill. Maybe if he didn’t have the whiskey in his system, he’d be able to imagine the situation better, understand what the hell is going on. Right now, he only knew he held more cash in his hands than he ever thought he would. For one kill. Is this what a person’s life is worth though? A duffel bag full of cash? Is that what we’re all worth? “How many a year?”

“Maybe like five. It’s exhausting, truth be told. Most of the stuff I do is... to keep people off my back I guess. There’s no cash in that, just another day I get to breathe,” Kyle added, getting a little lost in his thoughts. What people was he thinking about? Stan realized he still knew nothing about his situation. Nothing. He didn’t know who he was against, who he worked for, who was after him, who he was after. Would he ever learn? Or just fly through this. What even are Kyle's intentions with Stan? He stopped thinking about that for a few days but now he wondered again. What was his role in this?

“Don’t people like you usually belong to like a... family?”

“I did, bu-”

“What happened?” Stan could feel Kyle’s glare on him. He stepped over the line, big time. He forgot who he was speaking to for a moment, didn’t watch his words. And now he’a back at the beginning, getting stared at with those cold, empty, eyes.

“I do freelance, you could say. Or like... we’re just a bunch of people living in, like, symbiosis, you know? It’s not like a proper mafia family or whatever you want to call it. There’s people who do jobs like mine. There’s people who take care of money, people who communicate with customers. Like we kinda work together but... not in a conventional way. There’s no 100% loyalty between us. People could always turn their backs at you. You just hope that exchange of services is enough to keep them on the low.”

“So someone talks to your customers and you like take care of people for them?”

“Basically.”

Stan moved back to the couch. It was a little strange, he never imagined a community like this between hitmen and money launderers and mediators.

“How did you even learn how to use that?” Stan asked out of the blue, his eyes staring into the corner of the room. Kyle was first confused, then realized Stan was staring at the guitar case he was carrying around today.

“The military.”

“You were in the military?”

“Special forces.” He could see that Stan was left a little speechless. Maybe it was a lot to process. To him, it didn’t seem like anything crazy but by the look in Stan’s eyes, for a person who’s not in the business, it is.

“How did you get into this then?”

“Well that’s enough about me,” Kyle ended the theme of the conversation there promptly, reaching for the bottle one last time, asking Stan with a questioning look if he wanted one more glass. They both felt the alcohol hit them in the head but it was nice, it was smooth. It didn’t hit them like a truck, all at once, it was more of a slow trip, a smooth feeling of euphoria slipping over them.

“Depends on how drunk you plan on getting me tonight,” Stan giggled, spreading himself over a half of the couch. Despite drinking, Kyle still seemed so well put together, like he was drinking water the whole time. He just had flushed cheeks and smiled more than Stan had seen him smile since the car ride that started it all. If he weren’t in Kyle’s presence, he’d let the alcohol do its magic. But he was trying his best to keep everything together, keep himself as together as the older man in front of him.

As he was nestling himself on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in, a sharp edge scratched his thigh. He squealed in pain and surprise, grabbing a book that has been laying on the couch this whole time. “What’s this?” he mumbled, examining the whole thing but couldn’t find out anything since the cover was taken off.

“A book.” Kyle tried to reach for the book but Stan quickly snatched it away, keeping it far from the other man. Kyle was at most impressed by how quick his reflexes were. He could’ve easily battled for the book back but decided to have a little more fun with it.

He saw Stan’s curious look as he asked himself what the book was about, opening it up on a random page. Kyle knew things were about to get messy when he saw Stan’s eyes get bigger in shock, him smiling delightfully as he skimmed through the page. “Okay, give it back,” Kyle said a little more strictly now, reaching for it again but Stan only backed up.

“Jesus Christ, Kyle!” he laughed, not letting the book go in any circumstance.

“Give it back!” he said between laughs too, hanging over Stan’s knees, reaching for the book but Stan was stretched as far as he could, his torso practically hanging off the sofa, arms far over his head, just to keep the book.

“I couldn’t get enough of him,” Stan read out loud in a voice as deep as could be, holding in laughter that was begging to come out. “I wanted to feel him, I wanted to ache. He was missing from me. My skin was burning but his fingers felt cold. I felt him inside me, yes, giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. His di- Jesus, Kyle, you pig!” Stan laughed, hitting the book lightly on the older man’s head. It was strange seeing him like this, his cheeks red in embarrassment and head hung low to hide it, he could still hear his laughs though.

Kyle put away the book, untangling himself from Stan and stood up to signalize that the night was over. “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he said, barely loudly enough to hear as he disappeared in his room.


	9. Chapter nine.

“You remember what I taught you, right?” Kyle watched Stan tuck a gun behind his belt. He was all set, waiting for Stan to finish dressing up. He handed him his jacket and headed towards the door, they were already late. His contact left the car downstairs, it was just waiting for them.

Stan hurried after him but not before stopping in the kitchen. “Wait, I still have my coffee.”

“I can't believe I got you hooked on caffeine.”

“Well, good job with that,” he grinned at Kyle, who knew it fully was the fault of his overpriced, overgrown coffee machine. “At least you won't catch me falling asleep at that... What is it even? A meeting? Party? Dinner?”

Kyle grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the mirror, he could fiddle with his hair in the car. “Let's leave it at a social gathering.”

“Funny that you're taking me,” Stan provoked Kyle while they waited for the elevator.

“I had to pull some strings to get you there. Plus, you really should go meet people other than me.”

“Oh look at you, caring about me. So I'm finally not under a lock?”

“Partially. Just be careful.”

Kyle couldn't believe he was going through the trouble of taking Stan with him to a gathering one of his associates organized. People he knew, people he worked with. He deemed it safe enough to take the boy with him. He was safer with him than back there, anyway.

He glanced at the boy sitting next to him, staring out of the window and tapping his fingers against the headboard in a familiar pattern. He tried to figure out what it was many times but never succeeded. He asked him, where do you know it from? What does it mean? Stan didn't know either, he said he learned it from an uncle or someone when he was little.

Kyle focused on the road, but his mind wandered. Has he gone soft? A roaring voice in him was yelling yes. That letting Stan know him this closely, letting him this close to his skin and to his self was wrong. A few months ago, this would be something unreal. But he somehow managed to start picking at Kyle’s walls that he put up. Maybe it was because of him seeing himself in him. He saw it when they had their midnight cigarettes on the balcony, he didn't even know whether Stan smoked before... Before he woke up in his car. Or in the way he learned to appreciate a perfect espresso, him laughing at the same things, him looking for clues about Kyle’s persecutors, he'd always refuse to stick his nose out of stuff that didn't concern him. He knew he wanted to learn, he wanted to get better. He was starting to see a bit of himself in Stan. Could it be that he molded him into this? Was this his work?

Kyle parked the car in front of a brightly lit villa, looking around to see a familiar face. Stan was ready to go, almost out of the car, when Kyle locked the doors. “We don't know your backstory.”

Stan was left a little startled, was there a reason for a backstory? He was only Kyle’s plus one. A cold sweat washed over him, he realized that if someone had asked him about anything concerning his past or Kyle, he'd be in big trouble. After all, he'll be one of the few new faces, if not the only one. Of course, people are going to ask. “I'll say I deal with your clients.”

“I have people for that. You do background research. We met during an operation. You live in a city pretty far, came to visit, that's why I'm taking you out.”

“Don't I need a fake name?”

“No, I had to put you on the list with your real one.”

“What else are they going to ask?”

“No idea. Make up some fun facts about your life, played football in college, boring shit like that. Oh, fu- There he goes,” Kyle whispered, his eyes following a guy entering the house.

Stan tried to figure out why Kyle got so tense all of sudden. He was gripping the steering wheel and his eyes refused to let go of the target. He already learned how to notice these signs. He could read Kyle better than he’d like to.

He tried to pin the man, he looked so familiar. But he just couldn't put his finger on it. “Who's that?”

“My target.”

“Your target? Excuse me, you're here for work?” Stan growled at the driver, waiting for him to turn his attention at him. Kyle turned back around, with a look that hinted he said something he didn't mean to. He quickly unlocked the car and reached for the hande to step out but Stan was quicker, reaching over him and locking the car once again.

“You didn't answer.”

“I don't need to answer.”

“I have the right to know whether I'll be forced to pull out this little toy tonight or not,” he answered even more firmly, patting the gun under his belt.

Kyle groaned, running his hands over his face. “Okay, look. It's not just a gathering. There's one guy I could get... some info out of. I need you to go and distract his crowd.” Stan couldn't help it but felt a little hurt. Did he really think Kyle would take him out for something like this just because? He felt so stupid for believing that, that Kyle could really do something nice and thoughtful for once. No, he was there to distract random criminals so he could do his stupid little job, getting stupid info to save his stupid ass.

“Oh.”

“Ready to go- God, button some more buttons, we don't need that much attention,” Kyle sighed, fixing Stan’s shirt. “Ready to go in?”

“What choice do I have.”

 

Stan couldn't help it but felt uneasy, standing around with a drink in his hand. The moment he arrived, he realized he didn't fit in. He could feel every pair of eyes piercing him, judging who and why had just entered. A new face, some beginner. What is he doing here? This was supposed to be just associated company. But he continued walking with faked confidence, knowing people won't have the stomach to say anything, seeing him walk in with Kyle.

Immediately, he grabbed a drink for himself and Kyle too. But a problem occurred when Kyle was ready to take off, walking away to a group of people he seemed to know. Stan didn't dare to think he liked them. He didn't like anyone. But before he was too far, he grabbed his arm and pulled him back, trying to act invisible. “Don't leave me here just yet.”

“I've got clues to dig up,” he whispered, looking around to see if anyone's watching.

“Okay, Sherlock, but I've got no fucking idea what to do.”

“Try to fit in.” Easy to say. Try to fit in with middle-aged gang leaders and act natural while you're at it. Sounds easy enough. “You're a social butterfly, you'll do well enough,” Kyle patted his shoulder with an impatient smile, quickly walking off, being approached with a man he seemed to know very well.

Stan nervously stood by, close to a wall, observing everyone around. The enormous hall was filled with like 30 people, he wondered how many guns were between them. Or how many people they off-ed, but he quickly shut that thought down. After all, he had blood on his hands too. His stomach turned, he quickly drank to make it go away. He looked around to see where Kyle was. He found him sitting by a table in a friendly conversation with someone.

“Just a bunch of middle-aged dicks, huh?” said a voice beside him, bringing him out of his daydreaming. He looked down at the small woman standing next to him with the same drink in her hand like everyone else.

“Yeah.”

“Couldn't help but notice you're standing here alone. Why has Kyle left you all alone like this?” She could see Stan’s stare getting more and more confused. She tried very hard to not laugh, shaking her head. How does she know him, he must think. “We all know each other here.”

“Oh, right. I mean I'm just a plus one,” he smiled awkwardly, taking a big sip. He will need more than one glass to get him through the evening.

  
He didn't know how to feel about the woman. Could he trust her? You usually couldn't trust pretty women in situations like these, but something about her face was very warm and welcoming. Stan agreed with himself that there’s no harm in small talk. He wondered what she was doing here. “I see, I see. He usually doesn't bring anyone.”

“I'm Red, by the way,” she shook his hand, waiting for him to introduce himself. But she could read in his face he was questioning her. “It's just a professional name,” she added, taking another drink from the waiter passing by.

“How do you know each other?” Stan asked her, tilting his head towards the table where Kyle sat. Finally, an opportunity to understand this whole mess better.

The woman laughed at the fond memories of meeting Kyle. It seemed so long ago. “You've ever seen him break a neck?”

Stan nodded slowly, not proud of it. Was it supposed to sound like an achievement? Because if it was, the prize was the never-leaving crack he heard whenever he recalled it.

“Well guess who taught him.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah, he taught me how to shoot a gun and I taught him how the central nervous system worked,” she sighed. If she could, she would bring back those times. They were just kids back then, compared to today.

“How did you two meet?” Stan asked again, desperate to get at least crumbs, if not the whole truth.

The woman looked away, she didn't seem hesitant to speak. It almost looked like she finally had someone to tell their history to. “We were both running away from our past. We both got accepted into this society at the same time, I guess. I was a doctor but... Nevermind. I was a doctor, let's leave it at that. And with a bounty placed on my head, I had to hide.”

“What about Kyle?”

“He didn't tell you?”

“He likes to keep secrets.”

Red eyed him suspiciously, but since she's told him that much, she might as well continue. “From what I know, he left the military. No one really knows why, but I suggest you don't ask. It never ends well.” Stan nodded. He knew. “He worked as a clean-up man for a very powerful family. You know what kind of cleaning.” Stan waited for the name but it never came. It was for the better, he didn't need to get involved, Red thought. “He was good. Was under the protective wing of one of their best men, a hitman from some foreign family. But I guess he looked up to him too much, he started to copy his pattern. He made a mistake during an assignment though, something the hitman never did.” Stan was starting to understand why Kyle put so much thought and planning into every step he took.

“And since he copied the guy in his work perfectly, that was enough for the hitman to get caught and convicted. The family never got over it, I think he was like in the lead with some people or something. Once the police had the hitman, the whole empire came crashing down, just like that. They had clues, leads, confessions. Everything to ruin them. No one's sure where the boss went. But they've been after his neck ever since.”

Stan couldn't believe he learned more about Kyle in these ten minutes than in months of being with him every single day. His mind was trying to piece all the news together, his eyes unwillingly traveling to Kyle again. From what he understood, all these people around him were one... Family? Or whatever you call these groups. He didn't know. They all had someone after their necks and this was like a safe haven for them. You help, you get help. You kill, you get your money laundered. You deal with new clients, you get your wounds patched when needed. They worked alone but still, someone had their back. Strangely, Kyle never mentioned this with one word. What even made him trust these people? Probably the fact that you betray one, you've got fifty other problems on you. A good deal, Stan thought. But once he realized who really all these people were, he tensed up even more. He didn't belong here, he sighed. He didn't.

“Do all these people know that?” he asked Red, looking around. Kyle disappeared in seconds. He wondered whether it was kept secret just from him or from everyone else too.

“No, just us three,” Red laughed, amused by Stan’s surprised face.

“Why... did you tell me? We met like half an hour ago.”

“I saw you two together.”

“And?”

“And I see that he trusts you.”

“You can read him well, huh?” Stan chuckled, also stopping the waiter for another drink. If not Kyle, Red was there to keep him company and calm his nerves. There was something about her, she gained his trust so quickly. It would be alarming but he was so deprived of human contact, he latched onto the first thing.

Red shrugged, maybe she could. They held each other up in their beginnings and they only had each other to thank for making it this far. If they didn't teach one another, they'd be dead. He was there to get rid of a problem when she needed, no questions asked. She always sewed him up, taught him how to take care of smaller wounds, pull out shrapnel, no questions asked. It was a nice companionship, though they didn't talk often. They could rely on each other.

“Why did you tell me all this? Isn't it like a violation of trust or something?” Sat curiously asked, he couldn't get it out of Kyle but got it out of his friend in minutes.

“Well, if it gets out, he's after you. And after me too. So just know you've got three lives in your hands,” she joked but Stan sensed it was a warning too. This stayed between them, without Kyle knowing. But Red saw that she could tell Stan. It would help him understand the whole situation, she hoped. Understand why Kyle is the way he is.

‘You're my ticket out of hell,’ rang in Stan’s ears. What did Kyle mean by that? The lines were connecting, of course, he meant the family that wanted his head. They were the hell. He almost forgot he was kidnapped months ago. How in hell could he forget that? It was the most traumatic thing he lived through, waking up in a hitman's car, tied up. But the last weeks were so full and stressful, he forgot. It sounded so stupid, that was his first encounter with Kyle. But... But why him? Stan started wondering about his involvement in this. After all, the family wanted him. Why? Why did they want a random college student? As much as he tried, Stan couldn't piece this part of the story together. But he reminded himself that Kyle was using him as a tool to dig himself out of the dirt. He was a part of this mess and Kyle was using him like a broom. It made his stomach clench, obviously, he played a huge role in this but no one dared to tell him what it is. Did Kyle even know? Did he know why they were after him, did they tell him? Or was he shooting in the dark with this, just figuring that keeping Stan by his side was enough to get something out of the family that's after him? His fingers danced on the glass, he had to remind himself to loosen up so he wouldn't crush the glass he held.

  
Before he realized it, Red was gone. He didn't see her anywhere around either. He still had so many questions and she was the only one who would answer. He couldn't ask Kyle, he'd get shut down like so many times before. He was let in the dark once again, with more questions than before.

“Here you are,” a voice behind him said quietly, pulling him closer by his wrist. He already knew it was Kyle, he'd know it blinded, he'd know if deaf. He just knew. Stan looked at him, something disappointed and angry in his eyes. He knew Kyle couldn't read it. He didn't even sense that something was wrong. But what Stan wanted to do was pull him outside and yell out all the questions. And not let him go until he answers all of them. He felt like it was incredibly unfair, keeping all the secrets from him now that he knew how much he was involved in this. Just now he truly realized he could save Kyle’s life. Or end it. He was Kyle’s key in this family revenge plan. And he still didn't have enough decency to tell him what he knows, or even how he got into the mess. He was busy looking for clues, but what clues? He never said. Stan didn't know if he was looking for the boss, reasons why they wanted him, specifically. Or whatever else, their cash or family secrets, locations, treasures.

“What do you need?”

“See them over there?” Kyle asked, discreetly nodding towards the direction of two men, standing together by the entrance door. Stan hummed a yes, scanning them both. “I'll need you to get the one on the left away. I've got some questions to ask,” he whispered, reaching under and behind his jacket, checking if his tool is still there, in place.

“Give me a minute,” Stan whispered, making his way towards them. There was a table with what looked like oysters, no way he was touching that. But he was filled with so much anger and impatience that he'd do anything to go back into the car and drive away.

He observed the men from far away, looking for an excuse to drag the other one outside. Nothing, nothing caught his eye. Until he shifted, revealing a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Bingo. Now just wait or the right time. He turned around to see Kyle giving him a little smile, possibly to encourage him. Whatever.

“Sorry, do you maybe have a lighter?” he asked the man the moment those two moved an inch away from each other. The man turned at him, observing him for a second with a strange look.

“Sure,” he said in the end, making his way towards the door, it would be rude to just smoke in the house. They made their way out, Stan nervously fiddling with the pack he managed to grab from Kyle’s car. He wasn't even in the mood to smoke but he hoped those weren't the gross ones Kyle likes. “Here,” the man lit up the lighter when Stan put one between his lips, lighting his own too. Stan took deep breaths to calm down, he needed to keep the man outside for a while. What should he talk about? It wasn't as easy as Kyle made it seem. The cold wind that bit his skin slightly seemed to help. It was nice to be out, it was cool and fresh.

“Haven't seen you here before,” the man remarked, looking over at the lake in front of the house. It was probably fake. Maybe there were little ducks in the spring.

“Yeah, I'm just visiting.”

“Visiting Kyle?” the man asked, ashing his cigarette. Stan was taken back until he realized they all knew each other. He nodded, looking over the darkness spread in front of them. It was very dark out there, very little lights. It made him feel uneasy. “I'm Jason,” the man added, introducing himself. Stan did the same. Still, there was something off about the whole situation. The man asked whether he wanted to go for a little walk as the evening was getting boring. Stan denied, saying he'll go back inside soon since it's so cold.

“How do you two know each other?“

“Oh, I just do background check for him,” Stan lied through his teeth, hoping he sounds believable. Just an associate visiting from a nearby city. That's all.

“So just a business partner?”

“Guess you could say that. We sorta clicked along the way,” he chuckled, making it seem as if he was remembering fond memories. If not convincing Jason of his truth, he could try to baffle him with bullshit. And it seemed to be working.

“Right. Just asking because there were... Some speculations when you two walked in,” he laughed, throwing his cigarette into the bushes. Stan didn't even react to that. It took some will to ignore the comment but he did what he had to do. “And how do you like it here?”

With a bad feeling, Stan turned around, hearing footsteps behind him. No one was there. Just dark. Jason asked him if everything's fine. But before Stan could answer, his world went dark.

He jerked in surprise but soon realized he couldn't move. He felt something tighten over his head. He couldn't see a thing. He tried to raise his hands to take off the sack, he couldn't move them. Someone was gripping them. Tightly. They tied them together. He tried to kick. Sharp pain in his knee stopped him, making him fall on the ground.

He tried to scream but was quickly shut up, his every move and attempt to get away restricted. He heard a car pull up. He was grabbed, he couldn't even guess how many pairs of hands were on him. In an attack of fear, he felt his body shut down, he couldn't resist anymore. He heard Jason’s voice following him, yelling something. His head was woozy, he didn't understand him. He felt a push, landing on something soft. A car seat. The car quickly sped off, he heard Jason’s voice in the car too. He tried to fight back and run away. Sudden pain in his stomach stopped him. Probably someone punched him. All screaming was useless. No one heard him.

Kyle ran out of the villa as soon as he heard the car speed off. He had a terrible feeling. He got out, only seeing a car in the distance. No, this couldn't be true.

 

Kyle slammed the door to his apartment. His head was still in the clouds processing what had happened. The car was already too far but he felt like he still could have done something. Instead, he just got in own car, driving home. He drove fast, running red lights. He left the villa as soon as he could. He couldn't even take a deep breath, sweating, feeling as he's about to collapse. Finally, he arrived home. But it was dark. Cold. He was alone. There was no one shutting the door behind him. He made it to the living room, taking off his jacket and slamming it onto the table. “Fuck!” he yelled out, kicking the couch nearby. He hadn't lost control of his emotions in forever. But he didn't care, this was too much. He yelled out again, pacing back and forth in his living room. He ran his hands through his hair, over his face. He yelled out again. He felt like he failed. The crushing pain in his head didn't help. Pounding and pounding in each of his temples. He was holding back tears without realizing it, biting his lip to force them in.

He stopped.

Looked around the apartment.

Empty.

He yelled out. This wasn't happening. He felt cold sweat run down his neck. His hands were shaking. Kyle looked around his living room. He picked up Stan’s leather jacket from the couch. He gave up.

His knees refused to hold him up no more, he caught himself before falling. With the last bits of strength he had, he sat down on the ground. And that's when all the emotions washed over him like a tsunami again. He didn't have a dam strong enough to hold back the wave of tears. They came out. Still gripping the jacket. He covered his mouth, refusing to make any noise. He was disappointed in himself for not being careful enough. It was his fault, sending Stan out like that. All his fault. He was mad at himself. How could he let his guard down?

Kyle was angry. He was angry that they took something from him. But he was furious they took Stan away from him.

 

 

 

thank you all for reading!! feedback and thoughts are apprecated, be sure to let me know what you think, how you feel!! it really helps out with writing future chapters, at least i can see how yall feel so far!! but anyway, hope yall enjoyed it and will be back next time!

 

also tell me how i went from writing to looking for brockhampton merch on depop in minutes istg ill give yall a prize smh bitch needs to work on her attention span ya feel


	10. Chapter 10.

Kyle stood in front of a metal gate, a building outside the town. It was middle of the night and lights on the street didn't work, no wonder. This was the part of the city you were warned against. He left his weapons in the car. They'd be of no use here, they'd check him. Thankfully, he knew how to use whatever else was close.

He gripped the black briefcase he brought with him, knocking on the gate. It opened, they were already expecting him. Two tall men with masks came out, gripping their own guns. He lifted up his arms, waiting for one of them to check if he's carrying anything dangerous with him. Even the briefcase, he opened it just to reveal bands of cash, neatly laid one next to the other. 

The man doing the check-up grabbed his arm, pulling him along the long, poorly lit hallway. Kyle tore his arm away from his grip, barely looking at him. They couldn't read a single expression from his face. “I know where to go,” he growled and continued on. They couldn't hurt him. He knew that. They wouldn’t dare.

It's been three days since Kyle has been left alone. Three never-ending days. He barely slept, barely ate. When he had the minute, he sat on the balcony, looking over the city, the buildings, houses, hills. Where could Stan be?

He was determined on finding him, no matter what it took. He already had a strong enough lead, he spent every free moment hunched over papers and plans, trying to piece the clues together or out in the open, gun in his hand, prying information from where he could. He knew how to get the correct info. Fueled with determination, he knew how to do it even better.

His heart dropped when a lead mentioned the family's name. The family that's been after his neck this whole time. He should've known it was them. How did they get into the gathering though? How did they get past all the people, unnoticed? More importantly, how did they get past him? Seeing that the guy who Stan took outside was younger, he considered him less of a threat. Big mistake. He knew they were a lead, he didn't know they were a direct link. If he does this right, he might be closer to ending the whole chase than he ever was before.

Kyle felt like he was being ripped apart. He was doing this for Stan. He dragged him into this whole mess, he sent him outside that night. It was his fault he was kidnapped. He hated feeling like this, he hated feeling guilty. He worked on shutting up his conscience for years and now it's screaming louder than he thought was possible. But a little voice tried to convince him he's still doing this for himself. To finish off their boss, to drag his sorry ass out of a years-old feud. He was doing this for himself and no one else. Stan wasn't the goal, he was the tool.

He gave the man who told him the information the mercy of shooting him right in the head. He knew that once he's out of that door, that man's on the line with the family's agents, assassins, whatever. He was doing them both a favor. They’d kill him anyway, knowing he leaked some informations.

Before he could start the car and drive home, figuring out the next plans, he received a text. It was a phone he held onto for the minute, it didn’t have any tracking options. They might track it to the nearest phone tower but not his exact location. It was a text, simply signed as R, just as before. An address outside the town.

The walls were so close, it almost looked like they were closing in on him. He passed the doors with a look that made it known he's leaving with blood on his hands. The last door, that's what he's looking for. They were unlocked. He stepped in, seeing the man who took Stan calmly leaning on an old table in the middle of the room. It was so small, there was barely room around the table's sides. “Took you some time,” the man remarked, walking to the other side of the desk. He pulled out his gun, throwing it on the table to show he has no intention of hurting Kyle. For the moment. That's if he co-operates. “What can I help you with?”

“You know what I'm here for,” he said, his voice stone cold. He barely blinked. Kyle could read faces well enough, even in badly lit rooms like this one, to see something's going on through the man's head. He didn't recognize him from earlier days when he worked there, he must be new. Fairly young. He didn't know his name, nothing. It kept him wondering, was he stupid enough to cross the boss or will he go strictly by the rules? It was hard for him to stay one step ahead, the pure fury that they took something from him like that clouding his judgment. 

“You know what the boss wants,” the man hissed, giving Kyle the same cold look. 

“I've got more things to offer than that.”

“You know. What he wants.”

“I'm not bantering with my own life.”

“Well then say goodbye to your friend. They should start getting rid of him by tomorrow.”

Kyle took a deep breath, slamming the suitcase on the table. “I've got cash and I've got skills. I've got connections and information. It'd be idiotic to put a bullet through my head.”

“Trying to bribe me?” the man laughed, popping open the clasps on the suitcase. His eyes ran over the cash, he slammed it closr and slid back to Kyle with such force, it almost flew over the room. “This isn't about money, you know.”

Kyle grabbed the briefcase, turning it towards him. He needs to set his goals straight. He needs Stan, he needs the man to send orders to arrange a meeting. Judging by this whole situation, he couldn't be very far up the ladder. There were barely guards, they didn't check him properly. A rotten hole by the town. He was a nobody in the operation. “I hoped it would help your judgment.”

“Should've done that at the gathering. Didn't consider me to be a threat back then, huh?”

“I just wonder how no one noticed you two.”

“Well almost all of them are dead now so you can't ask them. Maybe if you noticed what was going on around you instead of trying to drag your asses out of the whole family mess, you'd notice us.”

The man laughed at him, rolling his eyes. “You know what he wants from you. You can either sign this,” he pulled out a paper, setting it in front of Kyle. “Or they'll piece him out, bit by bit. They'll do it painfully and slow. And they won't stop until your debts are paid. In your blood, Kyle. Chose carefully. I see you care about him,” he whispered, pushing the paper towards him. “I could just shoot you right here, we're doing you a big favor.”

Kyle tried hard not to scoff at that. That man had no power in his hands. The only person putting a gun on his temple is the boss. Or the president, as they called him. He knew that now that they had Stan and Kyle has killed his way to him, he wouldn't let anyone else do it. They wanted Kyle to trade his life for Stan's. He's going to die anyway, might as well save the boy from torture, is what they're saying. 

Is he willing to do that? Is he willing to put his own life on the line, almost sure they're going to kill him immediately, just to save Stan? The innocent boy that he brought into this? He would've been okay if it weren't for him. When he was asked to kidnap him, they needed him alive. People usually don't ask for that. They ask for a killing. In their plan, he played a huge part.

Kyle looked at the paper. His eyes scanned the words, they made him vow to give his life. He glanced back at the man, looking as if he was cornered and had no other option. “Where do I sign.” The man handed him a knife, he took off the leather cover. Biting his lip to not wince at the pain, he cut open a slit on his thumb, waiting for blood to come out and pressed it on the paper.

He promised them his life for Stan's.

He made himself sick.

“I want to get the address and time now,” he firmly demanded, gripping the knife in his other hand, low enough so the man wouldn't see. He knew he had the right to know right that moment. The man called in one of the guards, ordering him to bring in a phone and to take away the contract. The man simply dialed the number, telling the person on the other side he's done. He handed the phone to Kyle who took it with his bloody hand, listening to a voice, a strange, muffled voice. He barely got the address, come at midnight. Then it cut off.

A bad feeling came over Kyle. Something wasn't right. Something other than the man glancing at his gun every so often. He probably thought Kyle wouldn't notice. He did. He probably thought he could take him down, get the cash, run away. Maybe he thought he could injure him enough to finish things off today, bring him to the president and receive applause. More likely. 

Kyle handed back the phone. He watched his every move. Kyle closed the briefcase, pulling it off the table, ready to leave. 

Before he could actually turn away and go, he pinned the man's hand to the table, moments before he could actually grab the gun. It was a few millimeters away from his hand, Kyle reached over for it before the man had a chance to shake off the shock and defend himself. The bullet went straight through his skull, Kyle loaded the gun again. The man fell on the ground immediately, life leaving his eyes but his hand stayed pinned to the table with the same knife Kyle signed the contract with. 

 

Kyle wasn't sure whether he should smoke a whole pack before actually going to the address to calm down. He had very little wiggle room, he had to plan every move so precisely. It all could go horribly wrong. For him and for Stan. 

It was easy to plan when you could observe your target for some time. When you knew their routine. This time, Kyle wasn't even sure how many people to expect. Probably a lot, they deemed him as dangerous. He wasn't sure what the circumstances were, he didn't know anything. He only knew that they'd give him Stan and in return, he'd go with them. He'd be held captive and then killed. How humiliating. All for Stan. To save a life. 

Kyle stepped out of the car, five minutes until the meeting. He saw a car in the distance. That must be it. It was a huge hill, no trees around, no place to hide. Not a soul around. They chose their place right.

Rocks crackled under his feet as he approached the car. There wasn't a light in sight, only the car's headlights. He couldn't lie to himself, he was nervous. He was so nervous, he was sick. Kyle has never found himself in a situation like this, so close to actually dying. 

He stopped a few feet away from the car, waiting for someone. Out came four men and what he guessed was Stan. He had the same clothes like when they kidnapped him, the only difference was a black bag over his head. His hands were bound behind him, he could see he was barely walking as they pulled and pushed him around. “Give me the boy first,” Kyle yelled. He wasn't going anywhere before checking if Stan's okay. Or if it's actually him. 

One of the men came forward, gripping Stan by his arm. He threw him forward to Kyle, he didn't manage the thumble and fell on his knees. “Here's what you ordered,” the man seethed. Cold sweat washed over Kyle. This was all too familiar. Without breaking eye contact with the man, Kyle came closer and pulled the boy up. He took his sweet time, untying his hands and pulling off the bag. Once again, he saw that utterly panicked and confused face. He was bruised, bloody. But Kyle held it together, for his sake. He could hear him whisper, he pleaded him not to go. That he heard what they’d do to him. He begged him to stay.

The men watched them, too far away to hear anything. They didn't talk much, though. The moment Kyle was sure Stan was okay, he gave him an assuring smile, giving himself up to the men. He walked over, hands in the air. He had no gun on him at that moment. They checked him. Stan was none of their worries, he could barely stand alone, looking at Kyle as he was being taken away. They tied his wrists behind his back. They did it so tightly, it burned. They put a black bag over his head. Two of them grabbed his arms, pulling him towards the car. 

Bang.

And another shot.

Two more, right after that. 

The men dropped dead, right beside him. Kyle was a little disappointed they couldn't see his smile. He threw the bag off his head, feeling someone was helping him untie his hands. Stan. 

He turned around, seeing the boy after three days. It was silent, no one knew what to say. Kyle pulled him as close as he could, it never felt this sweet to hold someone in his arms. Stan returned the sudden affection, holding Kyle like it was the last time. He never felt safer than in that moment, in Kyle’s arms. He had little to hide, tears falling out of his eyes almost immediately. Kyle felt his shirt getting wetter, he didn't care. The gun he gave Stan seconds before he turned himself in was on the ground, he saw it glisten in the light.

He felt Stan gripping his shirt, he didn't mind. Kyle stroked his hair. “It's okay, baby, it's okay. I’m not letting you go. You're safe now,” he whispered. Stan looked up at him, Kyle saw the bags under his eyes, his bruised lips. He didn't doubt those were the three worst days of his life. He tried to wipe away the tears but there were always new ones. He seemed too tired to even cry out loud, just standing there with tears pouring out, silent. 

Kyle pulled him into his chest again, letting him feel whatever he needed to feel. He was relieved. He was happy he had Stan back again. He stroked his back, telling him it's all okay. 

“You did great. I'm so proud, I'm so proud of you, Stan.”

“It's okay, I'm here. You're with me now. You're safe.”

 

 

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hope y’all enjoyed the chapter, have a great day!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, if you'd like to feel free to leave a review or some constructive criticism (or if yall just want to chat lmao)!Have a nice day!!!


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